Learning to Love
by Hitomi Shirou
Summary: When Francis and Arthur become the legal guardians of two troubled and haunted young boys, they might have bitten off more than they can chew. FrUK and FACE family, story is better than summary. UNDER NEW TITLE
1. Prologue

**Author Commentary;** Okay then, here we go. This story suddenly hit me out of nowhere almost. It's been taking over my mind. I have a different story on the go, but that one is supposed to be long and I'm not even halfway through it (it's prequel was nearly 30000 words, holishit). So, to take a break from it, I'm going to work on this. This one is a little more angsty, but, like I said, it's been plaguing my brain. So, onward we go!

**Title;** Prologue

**Characters;** America, Canada, France, England

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** M

**Warnings;** Angst, child abuse, trauma, swearing

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia, but I do have a dysfunctional family (not as bad as this though).

"Why don't you get off you're lazy ass and get a fucking job!"

"Shut the fuck up you whore!"

Matthew whimpered and Alfred held him closer. It would pass, it always passed. They just had to wait a while and they would stop yelling, then they just ad to ide for a little while until they stopped being angry. Their mother might look in the large pantry for them, but their father wouldn't, and they'd take their mother's wrath over their fathers any day.

"Fine! Leave then you stupid slut!" their father shouted.

"I'm never coming back! You can keep the little bastards too!" their mother shouted back before the front door slammed and a foreboding silence swept through the house.

Matthew whimpered again, and for good reason. If their mother wasn't around, there wouldn't be anyone to stop their father when he got out of hand. Alfred squeezed him closer until neither of them could breath properly. They listened to their father stomp around the house, searching for them.

"Where the fuck are you? Come out you stupid brats!" he shouted.

Alfred wiggled backwards, farther into the corner of the pantry they were hiding in. Matthew attempted to wiggle back as well, but his shirt caught on a box of cereal and knocked it over. They brother stared at each other in horror as the heavy footsteps of their enraged father came closer.

The pantry door flew open and revealed their father, face flushed with anger and alcohol. His foggy gaze fell on the cowering children and he snarled. He reached down and grabbed little Matthew, the quiet and well behaved one, by the hair and dragged him out, ignoring his pained cries. Alfred squawked and leapt up, following his little brother. He knew he wouldn't be able to defend him, not against their father, but at the very best he could be there for him. It wasn't like their father would notice. And if he did, they could suffer together.

Their father finally reached the bedroom and tossed Matthew inside, not noticing Alfred slipping into the room before he shut the door. He grabbed Matthew again, this time by the arm and forced him down on he bed.

"You gonna whine and bitch too, you little shit?" he growled, ripping away Matthew's clothes, "You're just like that slut of a mother of yours!"

Matthew whined and struggled; he didn't want this, this was gross and dirty and humiliating. Tears began falling down his cheeks as he saw his father unfasten the front of his pants.

"No, please! I'll be good! I promise!" Matthew cried, trying to wriggle away.

Their father slapped him across the face and yelled, "Shut up!" before lining his erect penis up against Matthew much too small entrance and pushed in.

A scream bubbled up in Matthew's throat, but he forced it down as his father began thrusting. Small whimpers managed to escape, but he bit his lip to keep from making any more noise. God, he wished this was over already. He wanted to die, to leave, to go far far away and never return. Anything to make this hell end already. A warm hand wrapped around his and he turned to see Alfred gripping his hand, crying alongside him. They squeezed their hands together tightly as their father finished inside of Matthew and pulled out, leaving the room without even a second glance at the two of them. Matthew groaned and turned onto his side, the first sobs escaping his throat. Alfred Crawled up onto the bed and held Matthew close while he howled in pain and grief, silent tears spilling out of his own blue eyes.

God, why couldn't they just **die**?

Arthur Kirkland sighed; why oh why did he have to be a homosexual? Why couldn't he have been heterosexual like the majority of people? Then he could have gotten a wife and had kids of his own and not have to deal with his husband fighting about whether to adopt or not.

"Arthur, zink about ze child'z psych. 'ow would ze poor zing feel about being raized by two men?" Francis Bonnefoy, Arthur's husband, said.

"Francis, society has changed since we were kids. Now it's not that uncommon for a child to be raised by same sex partners." Arthur said.

Francis sighed, "I know it 'az changed, but we are living in a zmall town. People are ztill uneazy wiz uz being married, even zough we 'ave been living 'ere for many yearz now."

Arthur huffed, "Well, that's their problem, isn't it?" he said. He put on a sad/pleading face, "Francis, you know I love kids. I've always wanted them."

Francis sighed, "Oui, I know, but I do not zink zat I am ready to be a Father."

Arthur sighed as well, "Well, I suppose we _could_ wait a little longer." he mumbled.

Francis walked over to him and wrapped his arms around Arthur, "I am zorry Arthur. I know you want children, but I am juzt not ready. Maybe in a few yearz, but not juzt yet."

Arthur sighed and hugged Francis back. They could wait a few more years, but Arthur didn't know if he could wait that long. He had always wanted to have kids, and when he had figured out that he was gay, he had hoped to find a partner just as enthusiastic about them as he was, so they could possibly adopt when they got married. However, after repeated relationships falling through because of his partners unwillingness to grant Arthur the one thing he wanted out of a relationship, Arthur began to give up on having kids of his own. By the time he had met Francis while on a trip to Canada, he had nearly given up on ever having his own kids. However, when they had gotten married and moved to Canada (a small, but very multicultural, community just an hour and a half away from the nearest city), where same-sex couples were given full marriage and adoption rights, he had rekindled his desire to be a parent. Francis, while not as enthusiastic as Arthur about children, had agreed to think about adopting. But after three years of marriage, his standing on having a family was still the same; 'not yet, I don't think I'm ready'.

Arthur sighed again and removed himself from Francis's arms, "I think I'll go for a walk." he said.

Francis nodded, knowing that Arthur needed time to think and brood for a while. He watched Arthur leave the house and sighed. It wasn't like he hated children,he just didn't know if he would make a good Father. He wasn't like Arthur, parental instinct wasn't born into him. Before discovering that Arthur wanted kids, he hadn't even thought about about being a parent. His own family, while not as crazy as Arthur's, was still rather odd. His own father had left him and his mother when he was small, and his mother was rather self-obsessed, so where was he supposed to draw his guidelines for parenting from? Francis sighed again and picked up the mail from the counter, unread since they had stopped in the middle of breakfast to argue about having kids (again).

Flipping through the junk mail and flyers, Francis came upon a peculiar letter from the United States of America. Raising an eyebrow, Francis tore open the envelope and began reading the letter. As he comprehended what it said, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the irony.

Three hours later, Arthur walked back through the door, much less upset than he had been when he first left, "Francis? Where are you?" he called, "I'm not mad. I can wait another year or so."

From the couch, Francis laughed, "It zeemz zat you will not 'ave to Arthur. Look." he held out the letter for Arthur.

Arthur raised a frightening eyebrow, but said nothing and took the letter. As he read, his eye widened, "We're legal guardians? How?"

Francis sighed, "A diztant relative of mine waz arrezted for various zingz and ruled unfit to keep cuztody of 'iz two boyz. Zey cannot find ze boyz mother, zo zey rezponzibility fallz on me, ze clozezt living relative, and my zpouze, you. Congratulationz, you 'ave what you alwayz wanted." he explained.

Arthur wanted to leap for joy. Kids! Finally, he was going to have kids! He kept himself composed and sat down next to Francis, still gripping the letter tightly in his hands. Francis glanced over at him and smiled.

"I know 'ow much ziz meanz to you cher. Go a'ead and be 'appy." he said.

No sooner than the words had left Francis's lips Arthur had pounced and wrapped his skinny arms around Francis's neck, "We're going to be parents!" he cheered, "This is so wonderful! Two boys. Oh, I wonder what they'll be like. Do you think they'll need a lot of time to adjust? Ah, I should get started on bedrooms for the little things, shouldn't I?"

As Arthur rambled on about how wonderful it was going to be, Francis couldn't help but smile. He decided to with hold the little note at the bottom of the letter that said that, if they so wished, they could decline and let the boys go to the next relative or into foster care. If it made Arthur this happy, he would try his best to care for the two boys. It would be difficult, but with Arthur at his side, what could possibly go wrong?

They had no idea what was in store for them.

**Author Commentary;** Okay, prologue done, now on to the next chapter.

I'M SORRY FOR TORTURING AMERICA AND CANADA BUT IT NEEDED TO BE DONE!


	2. Pinky Promise

**Author Commentary;** Here we are at chapter one. If you've read my story Trashed Angels, then this will be along the same vein as that, but with a lot more angst.

**Title;** Pinky Promise

**Characters;** America, Canada, England, France

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Trauma, mild yaoi

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Alfred and Matthew snuggled into each other's sides. Ever since those police officers had come and taken them away from their father, they had had no idea what was going on around them. Kind looking women brought them meals and things to play with, and solemn faced men took them from place to place, asking them question after question that they weren't sure how to answer. They were told that things would be better for them from now on, but so far things had been tense and stressful. The adults around them put on fake happy faces, just like their mother would do for them sometimes when she was in a good mood. But then she would always get mad at them for something and then beat them. Neither Alfred or Matthew had done anything bad yet, but something always happened to make adults mad, and then they would punish them.

"Alfred, what's going to happen to us now?" Matthew asked, blinking wearily up at his older brother.

"I don't know." Alfred said, "Maybe we're going to be here forever."

Matthew snuggled further into Alfred's side, "As long as mother and father can't make us feel bad no more, I think I'm okay."

Alfred smiled down at Matthew, "Yeah, me too." he said, kissing the top of Matthew's head, "Go to sleep, I'll make sure that no one comes to get you."

Matthew mumbled something and was asleep within a few seconds. Alfred smiled and gently pulled Matthew down from his sitting position to rest his head in his lap, running his hand through the curly blond locks of hair.

Arthur was nervous. They were about to meet the children they were now legally responsible for. Two young boys, Alfred and Matthew, a six year old and an five years old, respectively. Beside him, Francis was also jittery. How would the children react to them? Would they be open to a new relationship with adults, ready to leave what had happened to them behind? Or would they be reserved and frightened of opening up to strangers? Francis sighed, but smiled when Arthur wrapped an arm around his waist and smiled up at him.

"Mr. Bonnefoy and Mr. Kirkland? We'd like to speak to you before we take you to see the boys." a pretty young girl said, "It'll only take a few minutes."

Arthur nodded and stood up, tugging Francis along behind him. The young girl led them to a room with a few chairs around a table. She motioned for them to sit and then sat across from them.

"Now, I assure you that nothings wrong with the two of you adopting these two boy, nor are their any legal mix ups or anything like that. However, I'd like to talk to you about the boys mental health." the girl said.

"They're mental health? Are they alright?" Arthur asked.

"Well, they've been through a lot of things that other boys their age have never had to deal with. For example, these boys have been heavily abused and neglected. We've even confirmed that the boys father, and it truly makes me sick to say this, has chronically raped both boys and the mother has beaten them to the point of hospitalization."

Arthur gasped, "Raped and beaten? Oh those poor poor dears." he said, feeling his heart clench painfully in his chest.

Francis felt his own hearth constrict painfully, "Are zey going to be alright?"

The girl sighed and shrugged, "I have no idea at this point. They've never had a loving relationship in their entire lives, but we did manage to get them out of that environment while they were still fairly young. They'll likely have some form of trauma for the rest of their lives, but we can minimize it with the right amount of TLC." she smiled at them, "Hopefully you do well with the two of them."

Five minutes later, Arthur and Francis were back in the waiting room, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the two young children they would be taking back to Canada with them. Arthur kept a steady eye on the door, gaze not wavering for a moment, while Francis glanced over at it anxiously every few minutes. Every time the door opened, Arthur perked up and looked down to about doorknob high for two young boys, but was disappointed every time.

After fifteen minuets of waiting, the same girl they had spoken to walked through the door, facing the other way and making coaxing noises. Arthur stood up and trotted over, eager to see the little faces of their new wards. He peered around the door frame and was met with two pairs of wide blue eyes.

"Hello there." he cooed, "You must be Alfred and Matthew."

They blinked up at him, and after a moment, the smaller one, presumably Matthew, whimpered and hid behind his brother. Alfred, the larger boy, used Matthew's reaction as a base for his own and snarled at Arthur, baring his teeth and everything.

Arthur was taken aback, but instead of being offended, he crouched down to their level and smiled at them, "It's all right, I'm not going to hurt you. I'll make sure that no one hurts you like that again."

Alfred eyed him suspiciously, "Do you promise no one'll hurt Mattie?" he asked.

Arthur nodded, "Not a hair on his head or your head will be harmed. I promise."

"Pinky promise?" Alfred asked.

Arthur chuckled and held out his pinky, "I pinky promise." he said.

Alfred glared for another moment before slowly walking up to Arthur and wrapping his pinky around Arthur larger one. Arthur smiled and stood up, "Would you like to come home with us now?" he asked.

Alfred blinked up at Arthur and nodded. Arthur reached out a hand for Alfred to take. Alfred stared at it for a moment before hesitantly sliding his own little hand into Arthur's. Arthur smiled and began gently leading the two out into the waiting room to meet Francis. Francis looked down at the two little boys. Alfred, the larger boy, was sandy blonde and had deep sky blue eyes. The smaller boy, Matthew, was also blonde, but it was lighter, more like wheat, and his hair curled around his ears instead of being cut short like his brother's, and his eyes were a very pretty blue-violet colour. Francis smiled down at them. All things considered, they were very adorable children, and from the conversation at the door, in need of some parental love and trust.

"Bonjour little onez, my name iz Francis Bonnefoy, and I am your guardian from now on, zo I will be taking care of you from now on." he said.

Alfred looked at Francis, then looked up at Arthur, confused, "I thought you were going to take care of us." he said quietly.

Arthur smiled, "We both will, we're going to take care of you together."

"Why?" Alfred asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Because Francis and I are married." Arthur answered, "When two people love each other very much, they get married."

The two boys were quiet for a moment. Then Matthew, his tiny little voice barely audible, said, "Mother and Father were married."

Arthur and Francis exchanged a glance. Arthur crouched down again and gently took both of the boys hands, "Sometimes people get married for the wrong reasons, even if they love each other. Sometimes they don't love each other, and things aren't happy for them at all. But Francis and I are happy together, so we won't do the things your Mother and Father did."

"Really?" Matthew asked, blinking his beautiful eyes up at Arthur.

"Of course, I pinky promised you didn't I?" Arthur replied.

Matthew buried his face in the polar bear plushy he was carrying, "You only promised Alfred." he mumbled.

Arthur smiled, "Do you want me to promise you as well?" he asked, sticking out his pinky again.

Matthew looked at Arthur's hand. Slowly, he reached his own pinky out, but as soon as it touched Arthur's, he yelped and pulled away like he had been burned. He then looked ashamed of himself and buried his face back in his polar bear, trembling like a leaf.

Arthur was surprised. Was the poor thing afraid to be touched? Arthur smiled again, "It's okay. Nothing's going to hurt you." he said.

Matthew just buried his face further into his bear and trembled even more. Arthur sighed; well, if the boy was that afraid, then they would just have to work up to it. He stood up and smiled down at them, "It's all right, we can work on it. Now, why don't we get going? It's a long drive home."

It took some more coaxing and the promise of warm food to get the two into the car with them. It was going to be a three hour drive to the border, then another two hours to get home. They had some things for the boys to play with, but for most of the trip the two only slept. Arthur thought it was adorable, but Francis was just grateful they weren't causing a ruckus in his car.

"Poor dears, I bet they've never had anyone to actually love them in their lives." Arthur said, twisting in the passenger seat to watch Alfred and Matthew sleep peacefully.

"Well, we are going to 'ave to fix zat, oui?" Francis said, smiling a little.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, "I thought you didn't like kids?"

Francis chuckled, "I never zaid zat. I alwayz told you zat I waz not ready for kidz. But I zuppoze zat I am ztarting to get uzed to ze idea of being a father."

Arthur smiled, "Is that right? Well, I'm glad your finally warming up to the idea." he said. He leaned over and kissed Francis on the cheek.

Francis smiled and leaned into the kiss before focussing on the road again.

Matthew was oddly warm. He sort of felt like he was moving, and he could hear breathing. Was it Alfred? No, it was too deep, not like Alfred's little puffs of breath. And were those arms holding him up? Who was carrying him? Couldn't be Alfred, he wasn't strong enough. Matthew opened his eyes a little, everything blurry with sleep. His eyes cleared and he saw Mr. Bonnefoy carrying him in his arms. Why was he carrying him? Was he going to-?

"Eeeeeek!"

"Sacre bleu!"

Startled by Matthew's sudden screech, Francis nearly dropped the poor boy. He managed to catch the squirming child before he hit the floor. Matthew kept struggling, so he gently righted him and set him down on the floor. Matthew scrambled away and hid behind a decorative table, shivering and shaking like a leaf in a thunder storm.

Francis knelt down close to the young child, "Je suis désolé que le petit, je n'ait pas signifié pour vous effrayer. Je suis très désolé. _[I'm sorry little one, I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm very sorry.]_" he said.

Matthew looked up from burying his face in his hands, "Allez-vous me blesser? _[Are you going to hurt me?]_" he whimpered.

Francis frantically shook his head, "Non, je ne vous blesserais jamais. _[No, I would never hurt you.]_" he said, then he realized something, "Vous parlez français, le petit? _[You speak French, little one?]_"

Matthew nodded, "Je parle français parce que la mère m'a enseigné un peu. _[I speak French because my Mother taught me a little.]_" he answered.

Francis smiled at the little boy, "Est-ce que Français un langage si merveilleux, n'est pas lui est-il? Je suis heureux de vous apprendre le parler, et tellement bien. _[French is such a wonderful language, is it not? I'm happy to hear you speak it, and so well.]_"

Matthew's head jerked up and he stared at Francis, "Really?" he asked.

Francis nodded, "Oui, for someone so young, you speak it very nicely."

Matthew managed a tiny smile, "Do you really mean that?"

Francis smiled, "Oui. Why, wiz proper practice, you will be a mazter of ze language in no time."

Matthew blushed and buried his face in his hands again, "Personne n'a avant jamais indiqué cela à moi. _[No one has ever said that to me before.]_" he mumbled.

Francis smiled, "Do you like to be complimented?"

Matthew nodded, but didn't take his face out of his hands. Francis chuckled and moved closer, "You 'ave many traitz to be complimented on Matthew. Do not let anyone ever tell you different."

Matthew took his face out of his hands and stared at Francis. He smiled a little and crawled a little closer. Francis grinned and stood, holding out his hand for the small boy to take. Hesitantly, Matthew placed his little hand in Francis's large one, nearly jerking away, but relaxing after a moment. Francis smiled and led the tiny boy to his room for a well deserved slumber.

**Author Commentary;** Ah, I think I ended it to abruptly. Oh well, I can't think of anything else for this chapter.

**Note;** Okay, I know a couple of you addressed that Francis's accent was too over the top or difficult to understand. Well, to bad, that's how I picture his accent to be. I'm the one writing this fanfiction, so I have the ultimate power over what goes into it. If you don't like it, that's your problem, not mine.

**Edit;** Because of a particularly biting review, I'm going to re-word my little 'note'. PLEASE stop telling me you don't like Francis's accent. I like it the way it is so it's going to stay the way it is. I'm SORRY if I offended anyone with my harshness, but at the time, I was in pain and in need of an outlet. It wasn't fair of me to take it out on you, so again, SORRY for chewing you out. But please, don't ask me to change his accent anymore. I like it that way.

**Edit (again);** I changed Matthew's and Alfred's ages from twelve and eleven to six and five. It works out better for the story-line I think.


	3. Working on it

**Author Commentary;** Okie-dokie, next chapter, here we go. TALLY-HO!

**Title;**

**Characters;** America, Canada, England, France

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;**

**Warnings;** Trauma, post child abuse, moderate yaoi

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia, but I kind of wish I did.

The next few weeks in the Kirkland-Bonnefoy household were rather tense. Alfred and Matthew showed little progress with Arthur and Francis, and both adults were beginning to become frustrated about it.

"I just don't get it." Arthur said, "We're nice enough to them, we've never done anything that might be considered bad, but they still haven't come around. They barely speak to us and refuse everything we try to offer them. They won't let us comfort them when they wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares, and they refuse to let us touch them."

Francis sighed, "Well, zeze zingz take time. You 'ave to remember zat zey 'ave never 'ad anyone to love zem. We must be patient, oui?"

Arthur groaned, "I know, it's just . . . A little frustrating when you finally get to have the thing you wanted most, and it won't love you the way you do."

Francis wrapped Arthur in a loving embrace, "Mon cher, what you need iz a nice night out." he said, " 'ow about we go out on a date this Zaturday? We can call in a babyzitter and go out for a nice dinner." Francis grinned, "And zen maybe we can ztop at a 'otel for an hour or zo?"

Arthur sighed, "As much as I want to say 'yes yes, lets go', we can't just leave the boys so soon after taking them in. Right now they still need us to be around." he said, leaning into the embrace and wrapping his arms around Francis's waist, "Sorry."

Francis squeezed him tighter, "It iz okay, I underztand. We can go out when ze boyz are more accuztomed to being 'ere." he said, "Do not worry, zey will come around. Zey juzt 'ave to learn o love a little."

Arthur smiled, "How to Learn to Love. Now _that_ would be a hard thing to write."

Francis chuckled, "Oui, it would be 'ard." he grinned devilishly, "Aimez-vous savoir quoi encoreest dur? _[Would you like to know what else is hard?]_"

Arthur shoved him in the chest, "You're a pervert." he growled.

Francis laughed, "Je vous attaquerai avec mon monstre de fourche! _[I shall attack you with my crotch monster!]_" he cried, lunging at Arthur.

"You stay away!" Arthur cried, leaping out of the way.

Francis grinned and began chasing Arthur around the living room, laughing cheerily. Arthur dodged and vaulted over furniture to avoid the perverted Frenchman, but he was giggling to himself as well. Since the boys had come to live with them, they had been so stressed out, it was nice to just let go a little and have some fun without having to worry about trying to get one of the boys to come out from under the bed.

After a few minutes of chasing each other, Francis lunged and finally caught Arthur, toppling him over the armrest of the couch and falling over the cushions. Francis bumped their noses together and quickly pecked Arthur on the lips.

"I 'ave you now, mon cher." he purred.

"Oh no, I'm so afraid." Arthur said sarcastically. He smiled up at Francis, "You're a dork."

Francis laughed and kissed Arthur on the mouth, lingering for a moment. Arthur hummed and wrapped his arms around Francis's neck, bringing him back down for a heated kiss. Francis grinned and moved to deepen the kiss, tongue flicking out to press against the seam of Arthur's lips. Arthur moaned and opened his lips, letting Francis map out the familiar territory of his warm mouth. A muffled 'thump' brought the two out of their own little world.

"Oh! Alfred, I didn't see you there sweetheart." Arthur said, blushing so hard his face felt like it was burning, "What did you need?"

Alfred stared at them for a moment, "What are you doing?" he asked.

Arthur figured that all of the blood in his body must have traveled to his face he was blushing so hard, "Well, uh . . . We were . . . Hugging. Yeah, we were having a special kind of hug."

Alfred tilted his head to one side, "Hugging? Why?"

Arthur shoved Francis off of him and sat up, "Because people who love each other a certain way like to hug each other a certain way." Arthur explained.

Alfred looked down at his feet, "Mattie thought you were fighting." he said quietly.

Arthur sighed, "Do you know where he's hiding?" he asked.

"In the pantry." Alfred said, "He's crying."

Arthur sighed, "Alright then, lets go see him."

Sure enough, they found tiny little Matthew huddled in between the potatoes and cereal, face buried in his stuffed bear, and little sobs escaping him.

"Matthew darling." Arthur cooed, "It's okay, Francis and I weren't fighting, we were only playing an adult game. Nothing's wrong."

"Matthew, mon petit, vous n'avez rien à craindre. Personne ne va te nuire. _[Matthew, my little one, you have nothing to fear. No one is going to harm you.]_" Francis said softly, knowing that the boy responded well to French.

Matthew peered up at them, eyes still wet and shiny, "You weren't fighting?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Arthur nodded, "No no, we weren't fighting. Sometimes adults will play with each other, and it only sounds like fighting. But even if we were fighting, we would never hurt the two of you, ever."

Matthew hiccuped and shifted forward, coming toward the two of them. Arthur reached forward slowly, as though to touch him, but Matthew shied away again, so Arthur retracted his hand.

"We won't touch you if you don't want us to, but we aren't trying to hurt you." Arthur said, "We just want to show you that we love you. We'd never hurt you."

Matthew looked over at his brother. It was true, Arthur and Francis hadn't laid a painful hand on them since they'd arrived two weeks ago. In fact they'd been he exact opposite. They smiled genuinely at them, not like their mother, who'd almost never smiled at them. They paid attention to them and never forgot about them, unlike their father, who wouldn't even look at them unless he was mad. Arthur and Francis praised them and gave them affection. Their mother and father had given them bruises and insults. Maybe, it was okay to let them come close. Maybe they wouldn't be mad if they asked for things like food and attention. Matthew wiggled forward again. Arthur didn't move toward him this time, waiting for Matthew to come to him. Matthew kept shifting forward, coming a little closer to Arthur every few moments. When he was sitting directly in front of Arthur, their knees nearly touching, he stared up at Arthur, not knowing if he could take that last little step and break his barrier of comfort. He didn't mind Francis touching him sometimes, but only a little bit, only on the hand, and only for a few moments.

Arthur smiled down at the little boy in front of him, "Do you mind if I touch you?" he asked.

Matthew dropped his face into his bear and nodded. Arthur reached out slowly and gently treaded his fingers through his soft hair. Matthew tensed and began shivering, but Arthur only rested his hand there. Francis leaned over and gently took hold of his hand, running his thumb over the soft skin. After sitting there for a few minutes, Matthew began to relax. He stopped shaking and peered up at Arthur through his long eyelashes. Arthur smiled and ruffled Matthew's hai a little. Matthew, liking the sensation, smiled a little and leaned into the touch. Arthur and Francis exchanged a glance and smiled; finally, the boys were getting used to them.

Alfred, seeing that Matthew liked the way they were touching him, shifted closer and nudged Arthur's arm. Arthur smiled down at him and treaded his other hand through Alfred's own blond four of them sat there for a few minutes, just relaxing in one another's touch. Arthur smiled; this was nice. They were finally learning that they were there to help them, not hurt them. Arthur gently retracted his hand from Matthew's hair and turned to gently, place both hands under Alfred's arms. Alfred looked up at him curiously, but didn't resist. Arthur lifted him up and set him down on his lap. Alfred squirmed, but didn't make any move to hop down. Arthur smiled and hugged him tight, heart fluttering when Alfred leaned back into him. Francis grinned and reached for Matthew. Matthew didn't struggle, and let himself be set on Francis lap and hugged. Alfred and Matthew caught each other's eyes; Alfred smiled and snuggled back into Arthur's warm arms. Matthew smiled a little and leaned back into Francis's arms, feeling an odd warmth fill his chest. It took him a moment to realize that he was happy. His eyes widened and he broke out in a wide smile.

"Ma qualité, ce qu'un beau sourirevous ont, mon petit. _[My goodness, what a beautiful smile you have, my little one.]_" Francis said, smiling brightly down at Matthew.

"I'm happy." Matthew said, "It feels good."

Arthur and Francis exchanged a smile. Alfred wiggled, "I'm happy too!" he exclaimed, "I like it here much better than with Mother and Father!"

Matthew nodded in agreement, but Arthur and Francis exchanged glances. That was the first time that either of the boys had said anything about their parents without becoming upset. Instead of becoming upset, the two of them happily snuggled into either Arthur's or Francis's chests, enjoying the warmth. Arthur shrugged and went back to hugging the boy on his lap. Francis rolled his eyes and began cuddling Matthew again. That evening was spent watching television, Alfred sitting on Arthur's lap and Matthew on Francis's, the two adults holding hands between them.

That night, however, was not so peaceful. Like every night, Alfred was tossing and turning in his bed, plagued by nightmares. Matthew always had peaceful, dreamless nights, but Alfred was not so lucky. Every night, a horror film played behind his eyelids, showing him bits and pieces of his father and mother torturing him.

"_Would you hold still you little brat?"_

"_No! Please! Stoppit!"_

"_I said hold still!"_

"_AAHH!"_

"AAAHHH!" Alfred cried out, bolting up in bed. Immediately, he began sobbing and calling out. To who, he wasn't sure. If his mother came, she would beat him, if his father came, he would do the same thing. His brother would probably come, but he was just as scared as Alfred was. Who? Who was there to help him?

"Alfred? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Alfred opened his teary eyes to see Arthur standing in the doorway, a worried expression on his face, "Did you have a bad dream?" he asked.

Alfred, upon seeing that someone, **someone**, had come to him, unafraid, burst into tears again and reached out for Arthur, "He hurt me!" he cried.

Arthur was at his side in seconds, "Shh, it's okay. It'll be okay, know one will hurt you anymore." Arthur said, scooping Alfred up in his arms and rocking him back and forth, "I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise to protect you from harm."

Alfred only cried and sobbed into Arthur's shirt, relieved that someone had come for him. Someone had come to help him, hold him and comfort him, to chase away his bad dreams. Alfred cried and cried and cried until he had no more tears. His breathing slowed and his puffy eyes slowly fluttered closed. Arthur rocked him gently until he finally fell back into sleep.

For the first time in a long time, Alfred had a peaceful, dreamless night.

**Author Commentary;** Aw, aren't they a cute family?

Okay, this, and everything else of mine, is going to just sit for at least ten days while I'm in England and France (travelling with some Americans, even though I'm Canadian . . . Hey wait a minute, F/A/C/E!). I will be back, but not for a while. Wish me luck!


	4. Birthday

**Author Commentary;** I'm back from my trip! And I must say, while the trip was amazing and I loved it, I was so exhausted from all of the running around and not eating properly because we were trying to see everything we wanted to see in such a short period of time. I don't think I'll ever go on another bus tour. As amazing as everything was, I was so tired by the time I got home that I could barely process what I had experienced because I was so exhausted. Oh well, on with the story.

**Title;** Birthday

**Characters; **America, Canada, England, France

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Trauma, post child abuse, moderate yaoi, angst

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia or its characters.

Arthur hummed to himself as he washed the dishes from the day. Ever since the two boys had warmed up to them, things had been going much more smoothly. Alfred was beginning to come out of his shell and was actually beginning to play like a normal child. Just the other day Francis had found out that Alfred enjoyed sports. Matthew however, was still quiet and timid, but he wasn't so nervous and shaky lately, and he didn't mind it when Arthur or Francis touched him anymore. He also seemed to show a liking for hockey and other wintery things. Maybe they would get them some sports things for their birthday's.

"_On that note, when are their birthday's?"_ Arthur wondered. Holy crap! They had no idea when the boy's birthday's were!

Quickly finishing the dishes, Arthur dried his hands and ran into the TV room where Francis was watching a documentary about Polar Bears with Alfred and Matthew. They watched him enter the room and sit down next to Alfred.

"Alfred, Matthew, I have a question for the two of you." Arthur said.

Both boys looked up at him, eyes wide. Alfred and Matthew, though more comfortable around the two adult's now, where still very guarded when it came to things like being asked questions, afraid that they would get the answer wrong or say something to offend Arthur or Francis and get punished for it.

Arthur smiled down at them and reached out to stroke Alfred's hair, "I was just wondering when your birthday's were is all. Nothing bad."

Alfred tilted his head to the side, "Birthday?" he asked.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Yes, your birthday. The day you were born."

Both Alfred and Matthew exchanged glances and looked back at Arthur, "I don't think we have anything like that." Alfred said.

Arthur and Francis exchanged shocked glances, "You mean to tell uz zat you 'ave never celebrated your own birzdayz?" Francis asked in disbelief.

Alfred and Matthew, beginning to worry that they had said the wrong thing, started to panic, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but we don't know." Matthew whimpered, shaking a little.

Francis placed a comforting hand on Matthew's head and combed through his silky curls, "It iz alright little one. You are not in trouble at all. We will juzt 'ave to go and find out from zomewhere elze iz all."

After a few minutes of getting the boys to calm down and relax, Arthur and Francis excused themselves to go talk in the kitchen, but let the boys keep the TV on so they could finish watching the program on Polar Bears. Alfred and Matthew exchanged a look.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Matthew asked.

"I dunno." Alfred said, "But what do you think a birthday is?"

Matthew shrugged, "The day you were born, like Arthur said I guess."

"But why would we know that?" Alfred asked, "We don't remember what we were like when we were babies."

"Francis said something about celebrating your birthday, but that doesn't make sense. Why would you celebrate something that's already happened?" Matthew said, "We're already born, so why should we celebrate it?"

"I have no idea." Alfred said, looking back to the TV where a Polar Bear was trundling along a frozen landscape with her two cubs.

In the kitchen, Arthur was pacing, "I can't believe those parents of theirs never even celebrated the boys birthdays!" he ranted, "The nerve!"

"Arthur." Francis said, trying to calm his husband, "From what I remember of my couzin, she was juzt az self-obzezzed az my mother iz. She probably barely even looked at the boyz."

Arthur huffed, "Your entire family is horrible." he said.

Francis rolled his eyes, "Doez zat make me 'orrible az well zen?" he asked, "After all, I am a part of my own family."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Fine, _most_ of your family is horrible. The rest are just bonkers."

"Oh mon cher, you wound me zo." Francis cried dramatically.

"Yeah yeah." Arthur said, reaching for the phone, "Be wounded somewhere else, I have to call the agency to see if they don't have the boys birth certificates on hand."

Francis huffed, "Fine, I will juzt go play wiz ze boyz zen." he said, leaving the kitchen and returning to the two boys on the couch.

Arthur rolled his eyes again, "Bloody git." he muttered, waiting for the phone to be picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Arthur Kirkland. My husband and I-"

"Fagot" *click*

Arthur glared at the phone. No matter where they went Arthur and Francis couldn't escape those hated glares sent there way just for being who they were. Didn't they both have the right to love who they pleased, just like everybody else? It just wasn't fair that they should have to hide who they were and be unhappy just to conform to society.

Arthur was about to slam down the phone and storm away when it rang, startling him and nearly making him drop the phone. He composed himself and pressed the button, "Hello?" he asked.

"This is the agency you just called. We're so sorry about that. It'll never happen again sir." a frantic sounding woman's voice floated over the phone.

"Damn well better not. You think I like being called names just for being with the one I love. Do you think it's fair that I don't get to openly love like the rest of the world?" Arthur growled.

"Yes, I'm very sorry. If there's anything we can do for you, please let us know." the young girl said.

"I called because I was wondering if you had the birth certificates of two young boys my husband and I came into guardianship of." Arthur said, calmer now that he had gotten some of the rage out of his system, "Their names are Alfred and Matthew Jones, but it might be Williams as well, we aren't sure."

"Alright sir, I'll just be a moment." the girl said. A few clicking noises were heard (probably the keys of a computer), "Okay, we do have the birth certificates. Would you like us to mail them to you?"

"Yes, thank you. I was also wondering if you could give me the birth dates of both boys." Arthur asked.

"Okay, let me see. Alfred's birthday is July the fourth, and Matthew's is July the first. Is there anything else I cane do for you?"

"No, thank you, that's all I needed." Arthur said.

"Okay then, I'll just mail these to you then. May I please have your address?"

After a few minutes, everything was set up and ready to be mailed. Arthur said his goodbye and hung up. He was still reeling a little on the inside due to the rudeness of the first person he talked to, so he turned on his heel and stomped into the TV room. Both boys were fast asleep and francis was watching them lovingly. He glanced p as Arthur came into the room and raised an eyebrow at his furious behavior. Arthur wasted no time and bent down to kiss Francis solidly on the mouth, pressing his tongue against those soft lips. Francis hummed and quickly reciprocated, pushing his own tongue against his small husband's invading one.

"Ze man on ze phone pizzed you off I azume?" Francis panted when they parted.

"Bloody sheep fuckers." Arthur growled, surging forward and kissing Francis again, "Idiots, the lot of them."

"Mon cher, you know I love it when you get ziz way, but per'hapz we should put ze boyz to bed before we begin making out on ze couch." Francis said, looking pointedly down at the two sleeping children resting their heads on his lap.

Arthur made a noise of agreement and walked around the couch to gently scoop little Alfred into his arms and carry him up the stairs to his bedroom, Francis following close behind with Matthew. They gently laid them down on their beds and tucked them in tightly, giving both a kiss on the forehead before retreating to their own bedroom.

"Zo, did you find out what ze boyz birzdayz were?" Francis asked after what had probably been the quietest round of sex the two of them had ever had.

Arthur nodded sleepily, "July the fourth for Alfred and July the first for Matthew." he said.

"Goodnezz, zo cloze. We should ztart planning a party." Francis said, pulling the covers up over Arthur's shoulders.

"Yes, we should." Arthur sighed before drifting off into the world of dreams. Francis smiled down at him and snuggled in next to him. It really had been too long since the two of them had had sex.

The next day was all about preparing two suitable birthday celebrations for the two boys. Both Arthur and Francis took turns playing with the boys and planning the party at different times, so the boys wouldn't be left alone for too there was one thing that neither of them wanted was to make the boys feel neglected. The next few weeks were a little hectic, trying to plan two birthdays while trying to keep it a secret from the ones being celebrated.

Finally, Canada Day, July first, and Matthew's birthday rolled around. Neither of the boys had any friends at the moment, so instead it was going to be family only. Just the four of them. They knew that they would have to expose the boys to other people eventually, but that could wait a little while longer, until the boys were more used to them.

Slowly, quietly, Francis crept down the stairs to the kitchen. Matthew had a sweet tooth, but he had never had pancakes as of yet. So, a pancake breakfast with sweet maple syrup was the perfect way to start a birthday. Francis, as quietly as he could, pulled out the necessary equipment to make pancakes along with the right ingredients. Luckily now that Alfred was having less nightmares, both boys had started sleeping like logs throughout the night. They wouldn't wake to any quiet sounds anymore.

As Francis finished the breakfast, Arthur came down the stairs, already dressed and ready for the day.

"Oh good, your ready down here." Arthur said, "I'll just go wake up the boys."

Francis smiled, "Do you 'ave everyzing elze ready?" he asked.

Arthur huffed, "I should think so, we've been working on this for the last three weeks."

Francis chuckled as Arthur disappeared back up the stairs. In the short time the two of them had been taking care of the boys, Arthur had certainly taken to the role of 'Mother' quite easily. It was rather adorable.

"Alfred." Arthur cooed softly, laying a hand on the small boys shoulder, "It's time to get up."

Alfred groaned and rolled over to face Arthur, "What's going on?" he asked.

"We have to get up to celebrate Matthew's birthday today." Arthur said, "Don't you want to make your little brother feel special on his sixth birthday?"

Alfred didn't know much about birthdays, but he loved his brother very much, and any chance to show it was always taken. Alfred hopped out of bed and followed Arthur down the hall to his little brother's room. Matthew was still sleeping soundly, and Alfred really didn't like to wake him up (when they lived with Mother and Father, sleep was a rare thing), but they had been getting lots of sleep lately, so it should be okay.

"Matthew sweetheart, it's time to get up." Arthur said softly.

Matthew whimpered and woke up quickly, as he usually did. He blinked up at Arthur ho smiled down at him, "Happy birthday Matthew." he said.

Matthew tilted his head to one side, but Arthur just pulled him out of bed and led him and his brother downstairs where Francis was waiting for them with two plates full of steaming pancakes.

"Bonjour mes petits amours, et joyeux anniversaire mon Matthew doux _[Hello my little loves, and happy birthday my sweet Matthew]_." Francis said cheerily.

Neither of the boys really understood what a birthday was yet, but since it seemed to be a good thing, they didn't say anything and let Arthur and Francis pamper them. First Matthew, treating him to a very delicious breakfast of maple syrup covered pancakes (which Matthew instantly fell in love with), and a day filled with whatever he wanted and cake and gifts especially for him, then Alfred a few days later, who got to have hamburgers (which he claimed was the best thing he had ever tasted) and cake and gifts and whatever he wanted, much like Matthew had days previously.

As things were winding down on Alfred's birthday, they finally decided to ask what exactly a birthday was.

"What's a birthday?" Arthur repeated, eyebrows raising, "Oh yeah, I suppose neither of you have ever had anything like this ever before, so it would be a little confusing."

Matthew and Alfred titled their heads in confusion, but let Francis and Arthur pull them up onto the couch and onto their laps. They snuggled into the comforting chests of their guardians and let them explain while they ran their kind fingers through their blond locks.

"A birthday is like an anniversary of the day someone was born." Arthur said, stroking Matthew's curls.

"And when you celebrate it, it zignifiez zat you 'ave become a year older or zat you 'ave lived to see anozer year pazz." Francis continued, holding Alfred close to him.

"Oh, that makes sense." Matthew said, "So people celebrate birthdays to be happy that they lived another year."

"That's right. The people that care about you will often throw you a party like the ones we did for you." Arthur explained.

Alfred stared up at them, "Does that mean you care about us?" he asked quietly.

Francis smiled down at him and kissed his cheek, "Oui, we care about you boz very very much." he said.

Matthew and Alfred exchanged glances and smiled, "We care about you too." they said, snuggling deeper into their guardians chests.

Arthur and Francis looked p from their charges and smiled at each other. They shared a kiss, soft, sweet, but quick, and then returned to doting on their sweet, broken-but-healing, angels.

That night, before Alfred drifted off to sleep, he heard the tiny pattering of Matthew's footsteps coming down the hall. His door opened to show little Matthew peering through the doorway at him.

"Mattie, what's wrong?" Alfred asked, sitting up.

Matthew padded over and climbed up onto Alfred's bed with him, "Nothing's wrong." he said quietly, "I just wanted to see if you were the same way as me."

Alfred tilted his head to one side, "And how are you?"

And then Matthew broke out into a big, beautiful smile that lit up the entire room. Never had Alfred seen Matthew smile like that, it made him want to smile big and bright too.

"I'm happy." Matthew said, "I actually feel happy and warm and nice on the inside. It's like I can almost forget the bad stuff. I really, really like staying with Arthur and Francis. They make me feel . . . I don't know how to say it. they make me feel happy and strong and good on the inside, like it's all warm and fuzzy."

Alfred found himself smiling as well, "They make me feel like that too." he said.

Later in life, the two would figure out that what they felt was love. The love that gave unconditionally and without reason; the love parents doted upon their children and children doted upon their parents. The love that never, no matter where life took you, ever fades.

**Author Commentary;** Raaaah fail ending is fail, but I had to get this chapter out. Hope you enjoyed it.

**Edit;** Beefed up the ending. I'm much happier with it now.


	5. Storm

**Author Commentary;** I've been wanting to do something like this for a while.

**Note;** I changed Francis's accent a little. Nothing big, just his S's.

**Title;** Storm

**Characters;** America, Canada, England, France

**Pair;** FrUK

**Rating;** K

**Warning;** So much fluff you'll shit rainbows for a week

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

At the sound of a large crash, Alfred shot up in bed. What was-? Another crash sent Alfred scrambling under the covers. A thunder storm. Alfred hated them. They were loud and scary and even though Alfred had to be the hero for Matthew, he couldn't help but be frightened. He'd tried going to mother once, but she had rolled over and told him some nasty things.

Another crash of thunder. Alfred whimpered and shivered. Through the sound of the rain, he heard the door creak open and little feet scamper over to his bedside. A weight plopped down on the bed and a warm body wriggled underneath the covers beside Alfred.

"Al, I'm scared." Matthew whimpered, snuggling as close to Alfred as possible.

"It's okay Mattie, I'll protect you. I'll be your hero." Alfred said, wrapping and arm around his shaking little brother.

Another crash of thunder shook the house and sent Matthew into little sobs. Alfred held him tighter and rubbed his back. Making a quick decision, Alfred pulled them both out of bed and tugged Matthew out of the room and down the hall. Quietly, he pushed Arthur and Francis's bedroom door open. He would have never tried this with Mother or Father, but Arthur and Francis were different. They never hurt them. Still, as they made their way over to the sleeping adults, they kept as quiet as possible, trying not to wake them. A crash of thunder however, sent them leaping onto the unsuspecting adults.

"Oof! What the-? Alfred, Matthew?" Arthur grunted, propping himself up on his elbows, "What's wrong?"

Francis groaned and rolled over, "Did you 'ave a nightmare Alfred?" he asked groggily.

Thunder boomed once again, launching the trembling little forms at their caretakers. Arthur and Francis exchanged a glance.

"Did ze zunder scare you mes petits?" Francis asked, threading his hand through Matthew's pale curls.

Both Alfred and Matthew nodded against the chests of their protectorates. Arthur smiled and wrapped his arms around Alfred trembling form, "Would you like to spend the night with us?" he asked.

The boys clung tighter to them and they exchanged another glance. After some shifting around, the boys were comfortably settled in between the two of them, everyone snuggled together for comfort and warmth.

"See, the thunder isn't so scary." Arthur said, rubbing Alfred's back soothingly, "Just a sound, nothing to be afraid of."

Another crash; both boys flinched, but they didn't seem as scared now. As the storm raged on outside, all four of them huddled together on the bed, comforted in each other's presence. As Alfred relaxed in Arthur's warm arms, he thought of something.

Once when he was smaller, he'd seen a TV program where a man said 'It doesn't matter that you aren't my son, so long as you call me Dad, I love you.' It had stuck with him throughout his life. He'd always wondered how something like that worked, but it sort of made sense to him now.

"Arthur?" he called.

"Yes, what is it?" Arthur said back, tightening his arms.

"Can I call you Dad?" he asked, voice nearly a whisper.

Arthur tensed and glanced at Francis, who looked just as shocked as he felt. He glanced back down at Alfred, snuggled into his chest and wrapped comfortably in his arms. He smiled, his heart thumping in his chest, "Yes, I'd love it if you called me that." he said, pulling Alfred as close as possible in an embrace, "I'd love that very much."

"If Arthur is Dad, what's Francis?" Matthew asked, blinking his pretty blue-violet eyes at Francis.

Francis smiled, "You can call me Papa." he said, "Is zat okay?"

Matthew wrapped his arm around Francis's neck, "Oui, that is okay."

Francis and Arthur glanced at each other again. Arthur's eyes were wet, and Francis was absolutely glowing in happiness. They shared a kiss, stretching their necks a little, but not caring in the slightest.

"We love you both." they said, "We love you both very much."

**Author Commentary;** I sort of combined three things here. Every child's fear of thunder, something I did as a child (crawling into bed with my parents when I woke up at night), and the 'Can I call you Dad?' line. This was short, but it works for me.


	6. Shopping

**Author Commentary;** Have another chapter.

**Title;** Shopping

**Characters;** America, Canada, England, France

**Pair;** FrUK

**Rating; **T

**Warnings;** Mild yaoi, post child abuse, trauma

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

The summer passed slowly, but easily for the Kirkland-Bonnefoy's. Alfred had pretty much put his past behind him and accepted Arthur and Francis as his new caretakers. Matthew was still a little shy around them, but he too was very seldom overcome by his horrible past. Soon, September rolled around and it was time for the boys to start school and Arthur and Francis to go back to work (they had taken the summer off to help the boys adjust. Luckily they owned their own place).

"Do you think we should wait a little while?" Arthur asked, pacing in front of the bed, "To put the boys into school I mean."

"No, I do not zink we should wait at all." Francis said, sitting down on aforementioned bed, "Ze boys need an education."

"I know, but they're only used to us. I don't think they've ever even seen another child in their lives." Arthur said.

Francis rolled his eyes, "Mon cher, you are worrying too much. If we keep zem from ozer children now, zey will never get used to zem. If you want to get used to somezing, exposer is ze key."

Arthur sighed, "I guess you're right." he said, "I guess I'm just nervous for the boys is all. I get so worried about them."

Francis chuckled, "It is amazing 'ow quickly zey 'ave taken over our lives." he said, pulling Arthur down to sit on his lap.

"I know we only just took them in, but it feels like they're really our kids to me." Arthur said, snuggling back into Francis's bare chest.

"And to me as well, mon lapin." Francis said, nuzzling his nose into Arthur's neck.

"I'm not your damn rabbit." Arthur growled, "And that better be a banana poking me in the leg."

"Ehehehe."

"Pervert."

"Seulement pour vous, mon cher. _[Only for you, my dear.]_"

"Frog."

The next day, Francis woke the boys up, "Leves-vous et brillezmes chéris. _[Rise and shine my darlings.]_ We are going shopping for school zings today."

"School things?" Alfred said, rubbing his eyes, "What for? Matt'n me don't go to school."

"Well, zat is about to change." Francis said, "Ze zree of us are going out to get you some zings for school."

"What about Dad?" Matthew asked as they sat at the breakfast table.

" 'e is going to talk to ze school about getting you in wizout any trouble." Francis said, laying down their breakfasts.

"Why would there be trouble?" Alfred asked, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow.

Francis debated on what to say. There were a few reasons that Arthur was going to talk to the schools principal (a very happy Italian/Roman man by the name of Mr. Vargas); they needed to inform the school of the boys 'special circumstances', they wanted the boys to be placed with a teacher who was at least semi-okay with the fact that they were being raised by a same-sex couple, and they also needed to sort out all of the paperwork (one of the reasons that it was Arthur who was going to talk to the school). Francis chose a simple answer.

"Because zey need to know zat you are coming to school. You cannot just show up at school wizout telling zem." Francis said; it was true.

The boys seemed to accept this as an answer and finished their breakfasts, heading back upstairs to dress as soon as they were finished. Francis was just finishing washing the dishes when the boys came back downstairs.

"Is everyone ready?" he asked. Receiving two nodding heads, Francis ushered them out the door, "Zen off we go."

Francis quickly helped the boys strap themselves into the car, making sure they weren't going to go flying should he crash the vehicle. He was about to get in himself when Matthew cried out.

"I forgot Kumajiro!" he shouted, struggling in his seat.

"Ah, do not not fret mon cher, I will go get him for you." Francis said quickly. It was a known fact in their household that Matthew clung to the stuffed polar bear like a lifeline and refused to part with it. Francis and Arthur, understanding that it was probably something like a security blanket to Matthew, let him drag it around with him.

Francis quickly jogged inside and up the stairs to find Kumajiro sitting on Matthew's bed, probably left behind in a moment of absent mindedness. Francis sighed and picked up the stuffed bear, tucking it under his arm and leaving the bedroom. As he made his way down the hall, he passed his and Arthur's room. Hearing a shuffle from inside, Francis stopped. Was Arthur awake? He said he was going to sleep in late since he wasn't going to be speaking to Mr. Vargas until the afternoon and he hated getting up early for no reason. Francis snuck in, smiling upon seeing his lovely husband sprawled out over the bed, face pressed into his pillow.

He chuckled and walked over, "We're leaving now Arthur." he whispered, kissing Arthur's temple.

Arthur groaned and shifted, "Dun m'lest m' in m'sleep, frog." he murmured.

Francis chuckled and pulled the covers up over Arthur's shoulders. He ran a hand through Arthur's messy hair and then left, trotting down the stairs and out the door, Kumajiro tucked safely under his arm.

" 'ere you are Matthew." he said, handing the boy his stuffed animal, "Now is everyone ready?"

"Yes Papa, we're ready." Alfred said.

Francis smiled at them and turned to start the car. With a quick turn of his key and a few adjustments, they pulled out of the driveway and drove off into town.

Matthew clutched Kumajiro close to him and stared out the window. When they had passed all of this the first time, he had been asleep, so he didn't remember seeing any of this scenery. It was pretty. All of the trees and many shades of green rushed past, fast enough to be brief, but not fast enough to completely blur the trees and hills together. If he looked past the trees he could just see the tops of large mountains, their snowy peaks reaching up past the clouds. It was so pretty.

"I see zat you like ze scenery, mon cher." Francis said from the drivers seat.

"Il est si joli. Que cet endroit s'appelle-t-il? _[It's so pretty. What is this place called?]_" Matthew asked.

Francis chuckled, "Cet endroit est le Canada. _[This place is Canada.]_" he said.

"Canada?" Matthew inquired, tilting his head to the side.

"Oui, Canada. But zis is only a small part of Canada. Canada is actually very very large, ze second largest of all places in ze entire world." Francis explained, "C'est vraiment un bel endroit. _[It truly is a beautiful place.]_"

Matthew's eyes widened. Canada sounded like such a marvelous place. So big and beautiful. Surely this was a place that everyone looked up to. Matthew felt almost special to be here.

After fifteen minutes of driving, they arrived at the nearest shopping center. It wasn't the most glamourous place, but it would do for a few school things and some new clothing. Francis helped unstrap the boys and grabbed hold of both of their hands before they could run off.

"Stay close to me, so you do not get lost oui?" he said, smiling down at their sweet little faces. They nodded and practically glued themselves to his sides. Francis chuckled and led them into the store.

Shopping with the boys was proving to be more difficult than Francis thought. Neither child had ever seen more than the inside of their parents small house in America, or any other people besides them. So suddenly walking into a place bustling with people was a little shocking for the boys. Though they stayed close to Francis, they held onto him like a lifeline, sometimes even trying to drag him back out of the store, making it difficult to maneuver them throughout the store. Then came the curiosity. There were so many new things and people around them that they constantly asked Francis what things were and what they did. While this was adorable, it was also difficult for Francis to stay on track of what he was doing. One minute he was leading the boys towards the clothing section, the next he was wandering around a stationary section, the clothing section a few aisles back in the direction they came from.

"Can I help you sir aru?" came a soft, accented voice.

Francis turned to see a young Asian man dressed in the standard employee uniform of the store. He was good looking in a way that would make girls jealous and his long, inky hair was tied with string and tossed over his shoulder.

"Ah, we are trying to get to ze clozing department." Francis said.

"Right this way sir aru." the young man said, gesturing for them to follow him.

"Who is he Papa?" Alfred asked.

" 'e is an employee of ze store. 'e works to 'elp people." Francis explained.

They finally found the place they were looking for. Francis let out a sigh of relief and tugged the boys to the right section, "Now, lets get you boz some new clozing, shall we?"

The employee smiled at them, "You have such cute children aru." he said.

"Merci." Francis said. He smiled down at Matthew and Alfred, "Say zank you to ze nice man."

"Th-thank you." they whispered, not meeting the young man's eyes.

The young man chuckled, "Aw, they remind me of my brothers aru. They're about the same age as some of them aru."

Francis smiled at the young teenager, "Your parents must 'ave their 'ands full."

The young man's smile faded a little, "Oh, we don't have any parents aru. It's just me and my little siblings aru."

"Oh, I am so sorry." Francis said, "It must be 'ard for you."

He shrugged, "We manage. Ah, well, I have to get back to work, but it was nice talking to you." he said, waving quickly before walking off to help someone else.

Francis watched him go and held tighter to Alfred and Matthew's hands, hoping he would never have to leave them behind.

"Papa? Is something wrong?" Alfred asked, tugging his hand.

"Oh, nozing nozing, just zinking a little." Francis said, smiling.

After finally getting the boys some new clothing, they found their way to the school supplies section. All of the bright colours and interesting new things had the boys so enraptured that they barely noticed the other people meandering about. Some of the other parents raised their eyebrows curiously at them and Francis, but said nothing. Francis grabbed all of the necessary items the boys would need and was about to lead them away when he caught Matthew staring intently at the rows of coloured pencils.

"Do you like zem, cher?" Francis asked.

Matthew turned to stare up at him, "I've seen similar things before, but not in so many different colours." he said, "They're really pretty."

Francis chuckled, "Do you know what zey are used for?"

"Not really." Matthew said.

"You use zem to make pictures." Francis explained, "Do you remember the picture hanging in ze 'allway at 'ome?"

Matthew nodded, so Francis went on, "Well, someone created zat picture. 'e did not use a camera, 'e just pulled out zese zings called paints and used zem to put an image 'e 'ad in 'is mind onto somezing zat was blank before 'e made it into somezing beautiful."

Matthew's eyes widened. Francis laughed and picked up another box of coloured pencils, "Would you like me to bring one for 'ome as well as school?"

Matthew nodded eagerly. Alfred smiled at him; he'd never seen any of the things that they had seen today, but Matthew had clearly enjoyed this day more. Alfred could sort of remember a time when Mother and Father weren't so mean to them. He could remember crossing through mountains and coming to a place where the ground beneath him was a white ribbon that stretched along the edge of a blue water that never ended. Some thing he had seen today he could sort of remember seeing, like the coloured pencils, but the memories were foggy. Matthew, on the other hand, had never seen anything like the things he had seen today. Everything was new to him. It made Alfred happy to see that Matthew was enjoying himself. When things with Mother and Father had turned bad, Alfred had sworn to protect Matthew as much as he could. He hadn't done a good job of it sometimes, but he'd done whatever he could. But now that things were good again, Matthew could enjoy the life they had been given together. Alfred would still protect Matthew with all he had, but at least now they could enjoy themselves a little.

"Well then mes chéris, shall we go 'ome and show Dad all of your nice knew zings?" Fracnis asked.

Alfred smiled up at him, "Yeah, lets go home Papa."

**Author Commentary;** The ending sort of fails, but I'll stick with it. Please review me, it's the food to my creative soul. If I don't get enough I won't be able to write. PLEASE! *doeeyes*


	7. Principal

**Author Commentary;** Just something I thought might be interesting to include.

**Note;** I've named Rome 'Romano' since it's the closest modern name that fits.

**Title;** Principal

**Characters;** England, Rome

**Pairs;** Mentions of FrUK

**Rating;** K

**Warnings;** None

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia or its characters.

When Arthur woke up that morning, half remembering a scene where Francis kissed his temple and tucked him in tightly, he found breakfast waiting for him with a note to the side, Francis' slanty handwriting scrawling over it.

_Dear Arthur,_

_Don't forget to eat something before you go talk to Mr. Vargas. I made your favourite._

_Enjoy,_

_I love you._

_Francis._

Arthur rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. It was the small things like this that had caused Arthur to fall for the flouncy French bastard in the first place. Somedays he still wondered if marrying the great fool was the best or worst idea he'd ever had. Arthur sighed and tucked into his (delicious as always) breakfast.

That same day at two o'clock in the afternoon, Arthur was sitting across from the principal of the school they had decided to send the boys to. Mr. Romano 'Roma' Vargas smiled brightly at him. He was a large, broad man, towering over both Arthur and Francis (if he were present), and looking like he had enough muscle and strength to lift Arthur above his head with one hand.

"So Mr. Kirkland, what did you wish to speak to me about?" he asked, his bright smile not fading in the least.

Arthur wondered how to breach the subject, "W-well, my husband and I-"

"Husband? Oh, so you're on that side of the fence." Mr. Vargas said, interrupting Arthur. He didn't seem to smile any less, so Arthur assumed he was just thinking aloud and not calling him out on being homosexual.

"Yes, well, my husband and I have decided to send our two young boys here for school." Arthur went on, "But you see, there have been some issues with them that I need to speak with you about."

"Issues?" Mr. Vargas said, "What sort of issues? If it's something that's happened at a previous school, then it should be in their records."

"Well, that's one of the issues, sir. They haven't been to school before." Arthur said.

"Oh, are they kindergardeners?" he asked.

"Well, they're a little older than normal kindergardeners. One is seven, and the other is six." Arthur said.

"Why haven't they been put into school before?" Mr. Vargas asked.

"Well, Mr. Vargas, the thing is that my husband and I have only been guardians of Alfred and Matthew for just the summer, and their guardians before, their biological parents, neglected and abused them. They never sent the boys to school." Arthur explained.

"Neglected and abused?" Mr. Vargas said, sounding appalled, "Oh those poor poor things."

Arthur nodded, "It's horrible isn't it? It also brings me to my next point. While the boys are very used to us, they haven't been exposed to other children or people, and have also suffered a lot of trauma. I wanted to make sure that the teachers are aware of this and understand that they should be patient with them."

Mr. Vargas nodded vigorously, "I'll personally see to it that those boys are well looked after Mr. Kirkland." he said, "If you don't mind me asking, what sort of things have the boys suffered? Just so we know what to watch out for. Wouldn't want to trigger a bad memory."

Arthur saw the logic in it, "I have the police files with me, but I can tell you as well I suppose." he said. He took a deep breath, it was always hard for him to think about what had happened to the boys, much less speak about it, "Both boys were chronically beaten and r-raped, or ignored to the point where their parents wouldn't even acknowledge that they existed. Both boys rarely, if ever saw the outside of the house. When they were finally, thank God, taken away, they were both traumatized and very emaciated." he said, trying not to think too hard about it. He looked up from his lap and saw that Mr. Vargas was crying.

Not just a few tears either. Rivers of salt water were streaming down Mr. Vargas' tanned cheeks.

"Oh those poor things!" he cried, so loud that Arthur was sure the secretary out front could hear every word. Mr. Vargas reached across the table and grabbed Arthur's hands in his own with bruising strength (Arthur thought he felt something crack under the pressure), "Don't worry Mr. Kirkland! I'll make sure those boys are fully protected. I'll call in the police if I have to!"

"I-I'm sure that won't be necessary Mr. Vargas." Arthur said, managing to pull one hand out of the monstrous grip and hand the larger man a box of Kleenexes.

After calming the hysteric man down, Arthur filled out some paperwork needed for the boys to attend the school and assured Mr. Vargas that yes both boys were doing just fine and yes their father was put away for good and would never see them again. When it came time for Arthur to leave, Mr. Vargas wrapped him in a tight hug.

"You take care now! And God bless you for taking in those poor boys!" he cried, squeezing probably as tight as he could.

"Th-thanks." Arthur wheezed, swearing that he heard his ribs creak.

When he finally got home a few minutes later, he was thrilled to see Francis' car in the driveway, meaning he could spend the rest of the day with his boys (all three of them).

"I'm home!" he called as he walked through the door. Three pairs of blue eyes looked up at him from the living room floor. Alfred and Matthew jumped up and ran to him, each talking about all of the amazing things they had seen today at the same time. Arthur pretended that he was following along with what they were saying and nodded at appropriate times.

"Welcome 'ome mon amour." Francis said, smiling as he watched Arthur and the boys, " 'ow did ze meeting go?"

"I think my ribs are bruised all to hell." Arthur said, bending down and hoisting both children into his arms.

"Dad! You should see the picture I drew with my new pencils!" Matthew said excitedly.

"All right then," Arthur said setting him down, "show me what you drew."

Matthew quickly scampered over to the coffee table, which was strewn with various papers and coloured pencils. He sifted through them for a moment before pulling a brightly coloured piece of paper and running it over to Arthur. Arthur took the drawing from the tiny hands, fully expecting it to be like any other child's drawing. Instead, a very well drawn picture of a mountain stared up at him.

"Matthew this is wonderful!" Arthur said, "My boy is an artist!"

Matthew smiled brightly and hugged Arthur around the knees. Alfred, not one to be left out, hugged Arthur around his neck. Francis chuckled and got up from the couch, crossing the room in long strides and wrapping his arms around Arthur as well. Arthur sighed contently and let himself be held in the loving embraces of his two young charges and his one and only love.

**Author Commentary;** This turned out to be longer than I expected. Oh well, hope you liked it.


	8. First Day: Part I

**Author Commentary;** To everyone who's been asking about the angst that supposed to be in the story, don't worry, it'll come. I was planning on shaking up their teen years more than their childhood years anyway. Don't worry, shit will get disturbed eventually. Anyway, enjoy the fail.

**Title;** First Day: Part I

**Characters;** England, France, America, Canada, Ancient Greece

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Homophobia, mild yaoi, post child abuse

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

After a few weeks of nervous waiting, the day was finally here. The day that Alfred and Matthew would finally start school. Both boys were anxious to start, Francis was eager for the boys to be getting some exposure, and Arthur was freaking out on the inside.

"Are you sure have everything. Matthew? Alfred?" Arthur asked as the boys finished their breakfasts.

"I think I have everything." Alfred said, "But maybe you should check just in case Dad."

Arthur smiled. No matter how many times either boy said it, his heart still leapt when they called him 'Dad'. It was strange how one little word could make him feel so happy.

Matthew looked over at Francis, "Papa, examinerez-vous mon sac pour assurer moi? _[Papa, will you check my bag for me?]_" he asked.

"Of course I will, my darling." Francis said, taking their empty plates, "Go get dressed and zen we will drive you to school, oui?"

Alfred and Matthew leapt down from their chairs and scampered up the stairs to their bedrooms, giggling with one another. They were going to go to school! This was going to be an amazing day!

When they came down, dressed in their new clothing that their Papa had bought them, to find both of their parents checking their bags for them. They looked up from the blue and red bags and smiled. Alfred and Matthew both felt their chests swell in happiness. They'd never had someone care for them the way their Dad and Papa did. It had been strange at first, but they had gotten used to it once they understood that it was a good sort of strange.

"Are we all ready to go?" Arthur asked.

"Yes Dad." they chorused.

They all piled into the car, Matthew and Alfred in the back seat, Arthur in the passenger seat, and Francis in the drivers seat (Arthur wasn't calm enough to drive at the moment anyway). It took fifteen minutes to drive to the school, Alfred chattering away the entire time. When they arrived at the large school, both boys stood in awe. The school itself was divided into three parts; elementary school, middle school, and high school. It was strange for a small community to have such a large school, but the building's owner, one Markus Beilschmidt, wanted the building put to good use, so he decided that it should be modified into a school. Because it was a nice building in a nice quiet area, many families from the nearby city decided to send their children here, so the school never had a lack of students to fill it's halls. As large and intimidating as the building might have been, both Matthew and Alfred were eager to go inside.

"Okay, why don't you hold onto Papa and I so you don't get lost?" Arthur said, holding out his hand. Not taking his eyes off the large building in front of him, Alfred wrapped his hand in Arthur's, while Matthew took Francis' hand.

When they finally found the right classroom, they walked inside to see all of the other children and their parents milling about. The teacher, a very beautiful woman, was standing up front, talking to any questioning parents and getting to know her new students.

"Excuse me ma'am." Arthur called to her, "May we speak to you?"

"Of course." she said, smiling at them, "And please call me Ms. Karpusi."

Arthur smiled back, trying to be friendly; all seemed to be going well so far, "Yes, we're the Kirkland-Bonnefoy's. I'm not sure if Mr. Vargas told you about-"

"The special circumstances your boys have? Yes, Roma has informed me quite well about Alfred and Matthew." Ms. Karpusi said, smiling the entire time, "I can assure you sir that your boys will be well taken care of."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh good. I wasn't sure if Mr. Vargas had said anything. We never got a call saying that he'd done anything at all."

Ms. Karpusi rolled her green eyes, "Yes, he's never been the brightest of bulbs."

Francis chuckled, "You seem awfully familiar wiz 'im. Zis Monsieur Vargas."

Ms. Karpusi laughed, "I should be, he is my child's father, as much as I hate to admit it."

"Oh, I didn't know the two of you were married." Arthur said.

"We're not."

"Oh dear."

Ms. Karpusi waved it off, "Never mind about it. He even has a few grandchildren to go along with his few illegitimate children. The only one's I am aware of are my son Heracles, my cousin's little boy Gupta, and his only adult child who died a few years ago, leaving behind two grandchildren. There could be more children, but I'm not sure."

"Oh my." Arthur said, "Well, I'm sorry to hear about his loss, but are you sure you should be telling us this?"

She shrugged, "You were bound to here about it sometime or another. Whether from rumors or straight from the players mouth himself." she said.

"Oh dear." Francis said.

"Papa, can we go see the rest of the classroom?" Matthew asked, tugging on Francis' hand.

Francis smiled down at his two boys, "Of course you can. Just do not leave ze classroom, oui?"

"Yes Papa." Alfred said, letting go of Arthur's hand to go explore the classroom, Matthew following after him.

"You've done well with them, especially considering the circumstances." Ms. Karpusi commented.

"Well, I don't think they've completely comprehended what's happened to them yet. I'm starting to dread the day they become teenagers." Arthur said.

"Mon cher, per'aps you should not zink of zat at all. Zink of you blood pressure." Francis said.

Arthur swatted him on the arm, "My blood pressure's fine you git."

"Hey Mattie, check this out." Alfred said, climbing onto a stool and standing on it, "I'm taller that you."

Matthew squawked, "No way! I'm taller!" he cried, climbing onto a different stool.

"Matthew, Alfred, get down." Arthur said, lifting them off the stools, "Don't be silly."

"Sorry Dad." they both said, clinging to Arthur's legs, hoping they hadn't made Arthur angry.

"It's fine. Just don't go climbing and standing on things that are meant to be sat on, not stood on. You'll fall and break your necks." Arthur said. It always helped to explain why you were annoyed with them, to show that you weren't angry and avoid a large fit (they'd figured this out after Alfred had accidently knocked over a glass cup and broke it).

Faintly, Arthur heard a woman giggle and say to her husband, "Well, what did he expect when the boys are being raised by two fags?"

Arthur growled and tried to stomp out his anger. It would do him no good to make a scene here. He took his boys by the hand and began to lead them back over to Francis.

"I'm surprised they even let those two near children." the husband said back to his wife.

Okay, that did it.

"Excuse me, but I can hear everything you're saying." Arthur growled.

The woman laughed, "Oh I'm sorry, but you do know that those boys would be better off in a _normal_ family, don't you?"

Arthur snarled, startling the woman a little, "I'll have you know that my husband and I are the most loving family these boys have ever had."

"Perhaps too much." the husband sneered, looking down his nose at Arthur.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Arthur hissed.

"Arthur, just let it go, it is fine." Francis pleaded, people were beginning to stare.

"No, we're settling this. Why 'too much'?" Arthur asked again.

The man huffed, "Two gay men looking after two little boys. Why, there's one for each of you."

Now even Francis was getting pissed off, " 'ow dare you!" he cried, "I will 'ave you know zat neither of us 'ave _never_ even zought of touching zose boys inappropriately."

"Even if that's true, which I doubt, everyone knows that children are better off in normal homes. One's with _actual_ woman in the relationships, not just playing the part." the wife scoffed.

"I'm just as fit to raise my children as you are!" Arthur snapped, "But then again, that wouldn't be much would it. I know that I'd never tell my child that it's wrong to show love to anyone or to hate someone just for being a little different."

"Watch it you little fag." the man snarled.

"Or what?" Arthur growled.

The man looked like he was about to lunge at Arthur, but he remembered that he was surrounded by young children and hesitated. He might have done it anyway, but Ms. Karpusi stood up.

"Alright, that's enough!" she said, "I won't have any intolerance in this classroom. Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Bonnefoy have just as much right to raise their children as anyone else does."

The man scoffed and turned to address the room, "How would any of you feel if your son was being taught by a homosexual man?"

There was a murmur among the adults. Francis turned and said, " 'ow would you feel if your daughter was being taught by a 'eterosexual man?"

More nods and approvals. Ms. Karpusi turned to address both the adults and the children in the room, "Everyone, I'm going to give you an example here. I don't like mangos, but, no matter how much I don't like mangos, I can't change mangos or make them stop being mangos. Some people like mangos and others don't. The same applies to people. Just because you don't like someone doesn't mean you can change them, or make them sop being who they are. You have to accept that they're different, even if you don't like it."

Many of the parents nodded and smiled; they liked this teacher, she was going to be good for their children. The first couple, the one that had argued with Francis and Arthur, snorted and whispered something to their child, who looked up at them strangely. Arthur paid no mind to it; if they wanted to raise their child in an environment full of hate for those different, then it was no business of his until they made it personal.

Once the din had died down, some parents began to leave, reassuring their children that they would be back in a few hours to pick them up. As Arthur and Francis (reluctantly) started to leave, promising to be back, Alfred tugged on Arthur's hand to get his attention.

"Dad, what does 'fag' mean?" he asked, doe like eye staring innocently up at him.

Growing up, Arthur had always believed that 'fag' was just another word for a cigarette (being British and all), but he understood that here it was a bad word, and shouldn't be used lightly, "It's a bad word Alfred, so I don't want to hear you using it ever." he said.

Alfred's eyes widened and he nodded, promising never to utter the word again. Arthur smiled and ruffled his hair, "Well, Papa and I have to go now, but don't worry, we'll be here to pick you up as soon as school lets out, okay?"

"Okay." Matthew said, hugging both of his father's before they left, watching as Alfred did the same. They strayed by the door of the classroom, watching Arthur and Francis go for as long as they could see them. When the two figures turned a corner and could no longer be seen, they walked back into the classroom, sitting down with the rest of the class.

Ms. Karpusi smiled at them, "Alright then class, why don't we begin?"

**Author Commentary;** Finally finished this one. Blar, I'll have part II up as soon as I finish writing it.


	9. First Day: Part II

**Author Commentary;** Here's part II, and this time it actually focusses on Matthew and Alfred.

**Title; **First Day: Part II

**Characters;** America, Canada, mentions of North Italy and South Italy.

**Pairs;** implied FrUK

**Rating;** K

**Warnings;** None really.

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

When everyone was finally seated, Ms. Karpusi addressed her class, "Good morning children." she said, "My name is Ms. Karpusi, and I'll be your teacher for this year." she smiled warmly at them, "Now, for today, we're all going to get to know each other. I'll start by telling you about myself. I'm twenty-seven, I have a son named Heracles, and I enjoy teaching." she said, "Now I'm going to go around the class, and I want everyone to tell the rest of the class something about themselves."

As Ms. Karpusi went down her list of students, each child smiled and happily told the class about she finally came to the names Matthew and Alfred Kirkland-Bonnefoy, she asked them to tell the rest of the class about themselves just like the rest of the class.

"Um, my name is Alfred Kirkland-Bonnefoy, and I'm from America."At this the class let out a noise of interest and appreciation, it was interesting to meet a person who was from some faraway (in their minds) place, "And my favourite thing in the world are heros."

"Thank you Alfred." Ms. Karpusi said, "Matthew, it's your turn now."

Matthew thought for a moment, "My name is Matthew Kirkland-Bonnefoy, I like Polar bears, and um, I can draw."

The rest of the class gave their introductions, and Alfred's being from America was over shadowed by two little boys by the name of Vargas, who were from Italy _and_ their Grandfather was the principal of the school. It didn't matter right then anyway, everyone was everyone else's friend at that point, there was nothing to set them apart. Things like cliques, groups, and clubs didn't exist yet.

That day was filled with people getting to know each other. Ms. Karpusi sat them at different tables and then had them switch seats every so often. Everyone got to talk to everyone; friendships were formed and acquaintances were made. Alfred made a lot of friends, being eager to please as he was, while Matthew, quiet and shy, didn't make a lot of friends, but made a few acquaintances instead, people nice enough to talk to you sometimes, but not enough to go out of their way for you. He didn't mind though, Alfred was very adamant about bringing him into his new group of friends. At recess, Alfred refused to let Matthew be left on his own to play by himself. He made the other children accept him as well as himself.

"You don't have to do that, they're your friends Alfred." Matthew said, clutching Kumajiro to his chest.

"If I let you be alone, I can't be your hero Mattie. Now come on! We're playing pirates! Since I got picked to be the captain, you can be my first mate!" Alfred said, smiling and tugging Matthew by the hand into his new circle of friends, which was most of the boys in class.

Matthew and Alfred enjoyed themselves, more with each other than Alfred's new friends, but the boys didn't really notice. They didn't notice the other children around them and only payed attention to their game with the others. Or rather, Alfred and the other kindergardeners did, but Matthew would sometimes stop and watch the other children play. The older elementary and even some of the middle school grades didn't seem too much different from them, but some of the high schoolers had wandered into the field and walked around. Matthew was rather intrigued by them, but he did his best to focus on his game with his brother and his friends. He did keep his eye on a strange boy only a few years older than him sitting on some steps by the school. He had white hair and red eyes, he was sitting with some other boys his age, but he still seemed like he was still set apart. Matthew shrugged it off and went back to cutting down the other boys who had invaded his imaginary ship with his imaginary sword.

The bell rang and they began to walk back to the school, "That was so much fun!" Alfred said, "I can't wait to play again tomorrow."

Matthew smiled, "Yeah it was a lot of fun."

The next half of the day was spent going over what they would be doing in the coming months. They would be learning about the alphabet, numbers, shapes, colours, and various other things. Ms. Karpusi made it all sound very easy, so no one was worried. Everything was still perfect in their minds. They were in little bubbles were bad things didn't exist. Even Matthew and Alfred were safe, no longer concerned with hiding from the people that were meant to protect them.

That day when school ended for the first time, children excitedly ran to their parents, chattering about how their day went. Alfred and Matthew spotted Arthur and Francis nervously waiting for them. They rushed over and threw themselves around Arthur's legs.

"Oof!" Arthur grunted, nearly falling backwards had it not been for Francis steadying him. He looked down and smiled at his sons, "Hello darlings, how was your first day?"

They looked up and smiled brightly, "It was amazing!"

Francis smiled as well, "Well, zat is good to 'ear. 'ow about we go 'ome and celebrate wiz a nice big lunch?"

Both boys nodded; as fun as school had been, it was nothing compared to the warmth they felt with their new fathers. Whatever troubles that laid ahead for them were of no concern to them right now. Things were perfect and safe. For the time being, they could be happy without guilt, shame, or fear.

**Author Commentary;** Well, this wasn't how I expected it to turn out, but really, what does the first day of school usually have? You get to know your new classmates, talk about what your going to do that year, and then go home. No bullies or groups yet. It's all so innocent. Sorry, I guess I've been in a mood. Oh well. Oh, and if you couldn't tell, that last little bit was supposed to be foreshadowing something.

Dear god do I hate this entire chapter. Ah, I'm not going to try to fuck around with it. Piece of crap.


	10. Phone Call

**Author Commentary;** Sorry about the boring chapter last time. This one will probably be boring as well, but don't worry, it will lead somewhere.

**Note; **I'm naming Francis and Arthur's café/pub _Le Lion et le Coq _(The Lion and the Rooster), the two national animals of England and France.

**Title; **Phone Call

**Characters;** America, Canada, England, France, UK Family's Mother OC (I guess you could call her Britannia)

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** K+

**Warnings;** Swearing

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

It had been years since Arthur and Francis had gotten that fateful letter informing them that they were now guardians to Matthew and Alfred. Both boys had since blocked the memories of their past and now lived happily with their Fathers. Matthew had stuck with his talent for art and excelled in school while Alfred continued to be the 'hero' and focussed on sports (though running track was his favourite). Arthur and Francis had little trouble raising them and juggling their café/pub at the same time. Things weren't entirely smooth, but they got along just fine.

That changed the day Arthur got a phone call from someone he'd thought he'd never hear from again.

"Hello? Kirkland-Bonnefoy residence." Arthur said into the receiver.

"Uhg, after all these years, it still sickens me to hear that name squashed against my own." a sharp voice sneered through the phone.

"Mum?" Athur asked, voice cracking in his throat and heart seizing in his chest. If his mother was calling him, this could not end well.

"Yes it's me." she snapped, then said in a much more collected voice, "Arthur, I'm calling because I'm going to die."

Arthur's eyes widened, "What?"

"You heard me. I have heart cancer and, at my age, it's very unlikely that I will live." Brittany Kirkland, Arthur's estranged mother, said matter-of-factly, "I've already accepted it, but I want at least to see my own children before I die, even if you bring that bastard of a Frenchman with you."

"Nice to know that you still don't approve of my marriage." Arthur said sarcastically.

"Of course not. Not to a man, especially a _French_man." she snarled.

Arthur sighed, "When are you expecting us? We can't just drop everything and run off to England you know."

"As soon as you can, but call before you show up. The least you could do is be polite about all this." Brittany said.

Arthur gritted his teeth, "Yes Mum." he ground out, "I'll talk to you later." he said, hastily putting the phone back on its hook.

Arthur sighed; he hadn't been in contact with any of his family since his wedding to Francis all those years ago. His mother had basically disowned him anyway when he came out of the closet at fifteen, so he hadn't been too upset. He'd been a little bit put out by his siblings not keeping in touch with him, but he'd figured their Mother had something to do with that, so he put it out of his mind.

"Dad? Who was on the phone?"

Arthur turned to see his tiny, delicate Matthew standing in the hallway, staring at him inquisitively. His baggy clothing hung off of him, making him seem even smaller than he really was.

Arthur smiled at him, "Never mind Matthew. Do you have any idea where your Papa is?"

"Kitchen." Matthew replied, "Dad is something wrong?"

Arthur smiled again; Matthew always had an uncanny ability to read the atmosphere, even though his brother was terrible at it, "It'll be fine Matthew, no worries. Why don't you go get started on your homework?"

"I finished it at school." Matthew said.

"Good boy." Arthur praised. He patted the boy on the head and trotted off to find his husband.

"Francis." he said when he found the other man standing over a pot of stew for tonight's dinner.

"Oui mon cher?" Francis said, not turning away from his work.

Arthur licked his dry lips, "My Mother just called."

Francis stiffened, "Did she now?" he said, trying to sound calm.

"She said she's dying, heart cancer." Arthur said, "She wants to see me before she does. She wants us to go to London."

Francis put down his spoon and sighed, "And I suppose she 'as no knowledge of Alfred and Matthew?"

"None at all. None of my family does." Arthur said, "I haven't spoken to any of them since our wedding."

"Mon Dieu." Francis groaned, "Is zere no getting out of it?"

"Francis, she may be an old hag who hates my guts, but she's my mother, my dying mother. I have to go see her." Arthur said, "She at least deserves to know her own grandchildren before she dies."

"I suppose." Francis said, turning his attention back to the pot of stew, "We will 'ave to make arrangements at _Le Lion et le Coq_ for our absence."

"Berwald won't be happy about it, but there isn't much we can do. Tino won't mind I don't think." Arthur said.

"If Tino is okay wiz it, zen Berwald will follow 'is lead." Francis chuckled, "I wonder 'ow long it will take for 'im to make 'is move on sweet little Tino?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Fucking Frenchman, you're as bad as ever."

Francis grinned, "Oh mon cher, you are so cruel."

"Hey, you proposed to me." Arthur pointed out.

Francis laughed, "Ah, but mon petit lapin, you were so much cuter zen."

"Frog, I haven't aged a day." Arthur huffed.

Francis was about to say something when Alfred walked in, "Hey Dad, hey Papa, what's for dinner?"

"Stew." Francis replied, "And where 'ave you been?"

"Out for a run." Alfred said, "I think I'm going to need new shoes in a bit."

"Already?" Arthur said, "We just barely got you some! How could you have worn through them already?"

"Well, I haven't really worn through them, they're just getting small." Alfred said sheepishly.

"But the ones we got fit you perfectly!" Arthur said, "Goodness you grow fast."

"Arthur, ze boy is going zrough a growz spurt. 'e 'as grown nearly five centimeters in ze last monz alone. It is not 'is fault." Francis said.

Alfred grinned, "Thanks Papa. At least someone understands." he said, pouting at Arthur.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Oh bullocks."

That night at dinner, Arthur figured it be a good idea to bring up the phone call again, "So boys, I got an interesting phone call."

"What about?" Matthew asked, looking up worriedly.

Arthur reached over and patted his hand, "It's nothing bad sweetheart. I just got a call from my estranged mother."

Alfred raised his eyebrows, "You have a mother?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but Francis and Matthew laughed while Alfred flushed a little, "Shut up! I wasn't thinking!"

"When do you ever?" Matthew said, his quiet, airy voice barely making it over Francis' chuckles.

"Alright, that's enough." Arthur said, "Anyway, I got a call from my mother in London. She says that she has cancer and she wants to see me one last time before she dies."

The table grew solemn. Francis sighed, "So what do we do?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean? Shouldn't we go see her? Mattie and I haven't even met her."

"There's a reason for that." Arthur said, "When I married your Papa, she basically disowned me and told me she didn't want to see me until I was married to a respectable woman. And I do believe that she threatened the rest of the family into not contacting me for all of this time."

Matthew looked stricken, "That's horrible." he said.

Arthur sighed, "However, when she called, she told me that she wanted to see me, even if I bring 'that bastard Frenchman', in her words, not mine, with me." he said, "And like you said Alfred, you and your brother have never even met my family. As much as I dislike my mother, she's still my mother, and this is her dying wish. So, what are your opinions boys?"

Alfred and Matthew exchanged glances, "Well, she sounds horrible." Alfred said.

"But she is your mother, and she is dying." Matthew finished. The he smiled, "And I've always wanted to see England."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but chuckled, "I suppose going and making a holiday out of it wouldn't be so bad. And I might get to introduce you to my siblings, if they don't hate me as well."

Francis clapped his hands together, "And, since it is close, per'aps we can go and see France as well?"

Alfred perked up, "Yeah! It can be like a birthday vacation for me and Matt!" he said, referring to the fact that it was nearly July and their birthdays were coming up.

Arthur smiled, "Well, perhaps this whole ordeal won't be so bad after all." he said to himself.

**Author Commentary;** Well, this took longer than expected. Oh well, it's done now.


	11. Family

**Author Commentary;** Sorry for being boring with some of this, but don't worry, it will become interesting pretty soon, just wait a little while longer.

**Note;** Jack = Wales, Ryan = North Ireland, Tiffany = Republic of Ireland, Alexander (Alex) = Scotland

**Title;** Family

**Characters;** America, Canada, England, France, OCScotland, OCRepublic of Ireland, OCNorthern Ireland, OCWales, OCUk's Mother

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;**

**Warning;** Discrimination against homosexuals, mild yaoi, swearing, dysfunctional family

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia

It had taken a bit of planning, some scraping of change together, and a lot of arguments to get ready for their big trip to England. For the most part, they were going to stay in London with Arthur's family, getting things like the will sorted out and meeting Arthur's family, then leaving for the last week to go see Paris. When they finally left Canada, both boys were trembling in excitement, having never left the country save for the years they lived in America (not that they thought about those years much).

"Wow Matt! Look out the window! It's so cool!" Alfred cried, nose pressed against the small window.

"I would if you'd move your big fat head." Matthew grumbled, tugging Alfred out of the way to look out the window.

"Settle down you two." Arthur said, chuckling at the boys bouncing in their seats.

"Aw, but Dad." Alfred whined, "We've never been on a plane before."

"You will 'ave plenty of opportunities in ze future darlings." Francis said from his seat behind the other three.

Matthew turned in his seat and looked over the headrest, "Nous ne connaissons pas ce à sûr coup Papa. _[We don't know that for sure Papa.]_"

Francis chuckled, "Je suis sûr que vous voyagerez de nouveau à un certain point dans le vie mon Matthew doux. _[I'm sure you'll travel again at some point in life my sweet Matthew.]_"

Alfred groaned, "Daaaad! Mattie and Pap are speaking their French again! Make 'em stop!"

Arthur laughed, but Francis and Matthew rolled their eyes, "Alfred, vous êtes un idiot. _[Alfred you're an idiot.]_" Matthew said.

"Hey! I may not know a whole lot of French but I know enough to know that you just called me an idiot! I'm telling Dad! Daaaaad! Matt called me an idiot!" Alfred cried.

"Both of you knock it off!" Arthur shouted, "If I hear either of you speak for another half an hour I'm going to cancel the trip to Stonehenge!"

"What!" Alfred and Matthew cried out in distress.

"Quiet!" Arthur barked.

Both children slumped down in their seats and were quiet for the next hour or so. The rest of the parents on the plane gave the odd group a strange look, but no one said anything. The rest of the flight passed in relative peace, the boys becoming distracted by the TV's that were attached to the seats in front of them. Luckily the flight wasn't as long as it could have been, seeing as they were flying out of Ontario and not, say, British Columbia (AN; I had to do that when I went on my trip. Dear God those were the most uncomfortable ten hours of my life). When they finally landed at the London-Heathrow airport and had collected their baggage, they were greeted by a red head waving enthusiastically at them.

"Alex?" Arthur said, rather astonished that his older brother had come to pick them up.

"Yup." Alex, scruffy and freckly as ever, replied, "Had to come to see how your were doin' after all these years meself."

"I'm doing fine thank you." Arthur said.

Alex nodded absently, then something seemed to catch his eye. He peered around Arthur's shoulder with a curious and bemused look on his face. Arthur raised a thick brow and followed his gaze to rest on his two sons hiding behind their Papa.

"Well well, what have we here?" Alex said, grinning.

"Oh, Alex, this is Alfred and Matthew, my sons. Boys this is my brother Alexander." Arthur said, smiling.

Alex grin broke into a big toothy smile, "Well now! I'd figured you'd changed at least, but kids! Whoo, I gotta keep in touch with you more."

"Or at all." Arthur said dryly.

Alex rolled his eyes, "Oi, you mighta been willin to give up yer inheritance, but the rest of the family ain't so keen on gettin their fair share taken away."

Arthur huffed, "Well, we'll just see about my inheritance. But for now, why don't we actually go to the woman who cut me out of it in the first place?"

"Yer funeral." Alex said, "She mighta called you to come see her, but she still ain't happy with you."

"Figured as much." Arthur sighed, walking out to the parking lot, "She'll never be happy with me."

"Izat why you just gave up and married this shmuck?" Alex asked.

"Pretty much." Arthur said.

"You wound me Arthur." Francis said.

"Maybe if I do it enough you'll die and leave me alone." Arthur replied.

"You are so cruel mon cher." Francis said, feigning a hurt expression.

Both Matthew and Alfred giggled at their parents usual bickering. Any other child may have been concerned about their parents fighting all the time, but Alfred and Matthew understood that it was just their two father's way of playing with each other. They poked fun at each other to keep things fun between them, if they didn't then they'd fight for real.

After arguing about who was going to drive, finding a way to stuff all of their bags in the trunk, getting lost in the city, arguing about Arthur's driving, and nearly getting hit by a bus, they finally came to a large house in the richer part of town. While Arthur and Francis paled at the sight of Arthur's old home, Matthew and Alfred look at it in awe. Their home in Canada was pretty big, sure, but it was a shack in comparison to this huge house (near mansion sized it seemed to them).

After dragging their luggage inside, a young man with shaggy blonde hair and brown eyes, followed by two carrot topped and freckle-faced people, one male and the other female, came out to greet them.

"Arthur, Francs, it's been a long time." the blonde said, awkwardly standing a few feet away from Arthur.

"Jack, it's nice to see you." Arthur said, even though his face didn't seem too enthusiastic, "And maybe it wouldn't have been so long if you'd have actually called me once in a while."

The other adults in the room all looked a little sheepish. 'Jack' decided to distract himself by drawing attention to the two newcomers to the family.

"I didn't know that you had adopted Arthur." Jack said, smiling at Matthew and Alfred.

"You might have if you kept in touch." Arthur said dryly.

Seeing things were about to get tense, Francis stepped in, "All right, zat is enough. Oui, we all could 'ave avoided growing apart by a few phone calls, but we are amending zat now are we not?" he said, wrapping a long arm around Arthur's shoulders.

Arthur sighed, "I suppose. Guess I'm still smarting from everyone basically ignoring my existence since I got married."

"Hey, Mum woulda wrung our necks if she found out we were tryin' to talk to you." Alex said defensively.

Before another argument could break out, Jack spoke up again, "Arthur! Why don't you introduce us to your kids! They should get to know their uncles right?" The redheaded woman punched him in the arm and glared, "Ouch! Oh yeah, and one Aunt."

"Ah yes, right. Everyone, this is Alfred," Arthur put his hand on Alfred's shoulder, "and Matthew." he said, repeating the gesture with Matthew.

"Hello/Bonjour." the two said at the same time.

Francis smiled, "Sweethearts, zese are Arthur siblings. You 'ave already met Uncle Alex, ze blonde is Uncle Jack, the red'eaded man is Uncle Ryan, and 'is twin sister is Aunt Tiffany." he said, pointing out each one as he introduced them.

"What's with all the Aunt and Uncle stuff?" 'Tiffany' said, "We've barely met the kids."

"Well, they're my kids, and you're my siblings (unfortunately), so that makes you their Aunt and Uncles." Arthur said.

Ryan rolled his eyes, "Why don't we move this discussion to after you've seen Mum? She's been getting annoyed and impatient with you."

"Do I have to?" Arthur groaned.

Alfred gave him a look, "Whenever I say that you always make me do it, so you have to do it too."

Everyone laughed, even Arthur, "I guess you have a point there lad." he said, ruffling Alfred's already cow-licked hair.

Alfred puffed out his round cheeks at being treated like a child. Arthur smiled and took both of his children's hands and led them up the stairs to where he remembered his mother's room to be. When he finally came to the door that shielded Arthur from the woman who had brought him into the world, but had also kicked him out of hers, he stopped and hesitated. Matthew noticed and gave his hand a squeeze. Arthur smiled and squeezed back, suddenly remembering the time that Matthew wouldn't even let anyone touch him, much less let anyone hold his hand. Arthur took a deep breath and let go of Alfred's hand to open the door.

"It took you long enough." Brittany Kirkland snapped as soon as she laid eyes on Arthur, paying no mind to the other two in the room.

Arthur gritted his teeth, "I'm sorry mother, you called very suddenly, so it took a while to get things in order." he explained.

Brittany narrowed her eyes, "Don't you make excuses."

Arthur clenched his fists, stopping when he heard the boys whimper from getting their hands crushed. Brittany's eyes finally fell on the two young boys.

"And who are these two?" she asked.

"Mother, these are my sons, Alfred and Matthew." Arthur said, pushing the two towards their grandmother.

"You have children?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Arthur nodded, "Francis and I became their guardians after their biological parents weren't able to care for them anymore."

"You became their guardians?" Brittany asked in a seething tone.

Arthur tried to stamp his anger down, "Yes, they were relations of Francis's. He was their closest living relative, so the boys came to live with us."

Brittany narrowed their eyes and turned her attention to the two young boys standing at her bedside, "How old are the two of you?" she asked.

"I'm thirteen, and Matthew's twelve." Alfred said, "Our birthdays are in a week."

"How long have you been living with Arthur?" she asked.

"Since we were six and five." Alfred answered.

Brittany paused before her next question, "And what about your biological parents?"

Both children shifted uncomfortably, "Our father is in jail and they never tracked down our mother." Alfred answered finally.

"Hmm." Brittany voiced, "Leave me be." she said after a few moments of silence.

Arthur, while he didn't understand what exactly was going on, jumped at the chance to leave. He grabbed hold of Alfred's and Matthew's hands and pulled them out of the room, sparing only a second to say goodbye to his mother, who barely heard him.

"Whew." Arthur sighed when they were safely away from the demon that was Brittany Kirkland.

"Are you okay Dad?" Alfred asked, laying a hand on Arthur's arm.

Arthur smiled down at his two worried children, "I'll be fine." he said, wrapping his arms around their slim shoulders, "Just fine."

**Author Commentary;** That's supposed to be foreshadowing at the last little bit there, but I sort of fail.


	12. Mother

**Author Commentary;** So I'm cutting out their trip from the story. Really, nothing significant happens during the trip anyways, just a bunch of sight seeing and bonding with Arthur's siblings. I've already bored you guys to tears with that sort of stuff, so I'm skipping over the trip so we can start on the conflict already. I told you guys to be patient, but I think I've stretched your patience long enough. Now, enough of my useless rambling! On to the good stuff!

**Title; **Mother

**Characters;** America, Canada, England, France, OC

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** mild Yaoi, past child abuse, some homophobia

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

The trip, despite the awkward circumstances, turned out to be a success. Matthew and Alfred got along well with Arthur's siblings, and in turn they found the boys to be quite endearing. Soon the terms 'Uncle Alex/Jack/Ryan' and 'Auntie Tiffany' became commonplace. Brittany, however, remained ambiguous towards the boys, only speaking to them for short periods, and only asking them about their parents and past. Arthur and Francis didn't really like this and kept them away from Arthur's mother as much as possible. The will was sorted out within a few short days (Arthur managed to get his fare share back, though only at the insistence of his brothers and sister, although Brittany was oddly relaxed about the entire thing), and Arthur was left to spend the rest of the trip exploring England's wonders with his family. As promised, for the last leg of their stay, they took the Chunnel over to France and explored Francis's birth country. After they had seen everything they had planned on seeing, it was time to leave. They said goodbye to Arthur's family and promised to keep in touch before climbing onto their plane and leaving behind the British Isles.

"Well boys, did you enjoy the trip?" Arthur asked as the plane leveled out and his head stopped spinning.

"Yeah! It was so cool!" Alfred said excitedly, nearly bouncing in his seat, "Can we go back next year?"

Francis chuckled, "We will see chéris." he said.

When they finally got home, they found almost everything in order, aside from a light layer of dust. Things were a little hectic at _Le Lion et le Coq_, due to the new Danish employee causing some problems at the bar area, and there was a bit of a scramble to get ready for school, but they managed to sort everything out. Things were going great until one day, a few weeks before school started, a knock came to the door.

"Can I help you?" Arthur asked, not recognizing the young-ish woman standing on his doorstep. She had oddly familiar, but slightly shadowed, blue-violet eyes and long, curly blond hair.

"Oh, um . . . I'm looking for the Kirkland-Bonnefoy's?" she asked, sounding very unsure of herself.

"Yes, that's us." Arthur said, "Is there something wrong Ma'am?"

"W-well, I needed to speak with either a Mr Kirkland-Bonnefoy or a Mrs Kirkland-Bonnefoy." she stuttered.

Arthur inwardly sighed; here came the awkward part, "There is no 'Mrs Kirkland-Bonnefoy'. I'm Mr Kirkland and my husband is Mr Bonnefoy."

Her eyes went wide, then she shifted around as though she was uncomfortable, "O-oh, I see." she said, not meeting Arthur's eyes, "W-well, I need to speak to you about the two boys you're looking after."

"Alfred and Matthew?" Arthur said, raising a thick eyebrow. He narrowed his eyes, "They aren't in any trouble are they? If they've done something Ma'am I can assure you that they will be punished accordingly."

The woman shook her head, "They um . . . May I come inside?" she asked.

Arthur debated for a moment before standing aside and letting the woman through, "I'm the only one home at the moment, but Francis and the boys will be home shortly. They're helping out at the restaurant for the summer."

She nodded and followed Arthur to the sitting room. Arthur motioned for her to sit, "Would you like anything? Tea? Coffee?"

"No thank you." she said, sitting down an the couch across from Arthur's love-seat, "Um, how are the boys doing?"

"They're doing fine." Arthur said, "Are you a friend of theirs?"

"Well, not really. I haven't seen them since they were small." she said.

Something clicked in Arthur's mind, "Since they were how small?" Arthur asked.

"Around five and six." she said.

Arthur felt his whole body tense up, "You're their Mother, aren't you?"

She blinked her pretty, blue-violet eyes (so much like Matthew's) at him and twirled a lock of blond hair (the same shade as Alfred's) around her finger, "Yes, I am."

"Why are you here?" Arthur said, "You've never shown up before."

"Well, I've been, um, 'cleaning up', so to speak. I know that there's no excuse for what I did to those boys, but I'm better now." her face lit up with desperate excitement, "I can be a goo mother now."

Arthur bristled; why was this woman here? She had no right just waltzing into their lives as though she had done nothing wrong. This woman shouldn't even be allowed to be here. Arthur stood up, "Ma'am, I want you to please leave my property." he said calmly.

She started to panic, "I-I have a letter from a letter from someone named 'Brittany Kirkland' telling me that I should come here and-"

"Wait, a letter from **who**?" Arthur asked, heart freezing in his chest.

The woman perked up and began searching her pockets, "From 'Brittany Kirkland. I'm guessing she's a relation of yours?" she asked, holding out the letter.

Arthur snatched the letter from her hands and opened it with shaking hands. The letter was obviously written by his own mother. In it she explained that she wanted the boys to have a chance at having a real mother. She didn't outright say it, but it was obvious that she was outraged by the thought of two men raising the boys, even though one of them was her own son. Arthur handed the letter back, shaking his head.

"I want you to leave. I don't want to see you anywhere near here." he said, voice trembling.

The woman bristled, "You have no right to keep me away from my own childr-"

"As one of the men who has been the _only_ loving family that those boys have ever known, and the man they lovingly call 'Dad', I have every right to keep you away from _my_ children." Arthur growled.

At that moment, the door opened and the sound of people floated into the sitting room. A few moments passed and three figures appeared in the doorway. Tiny, delicate, sweet Matthew, rambunctious, stubborn, protective Alfred, and suave, seductive, irresistible Francis.

"Hey Dad, whose shoes are in the front door?" Alfred asked, catching sight of the young woman a moment later, "Oh hello. I'm Alfred, what's your name?"

She stood up, "Don't you remember me Alfred?"

Alfred looked confused, "No, I don't think I've ever met you."

Her smile turned sad, "Oh, well, I suppose you wouldn't remember me much. After all, you and Matthew were so little when I left."

Alfred wore his confused expression for another moment before realization dawned on him, "Mother?" he squeaked, voice shaking.

The entire room tensed. Matthew looked confused, Francis clenched his hands, Alfred just stood shaking, and Arthur was trying rein in his fury. The only one in the room who didn't seem to be able to read the atmosphere was the woman. She smiled brightly and walked up to Alfred, paying no mind to the way he flinched back a few steps. She wrapped her thin arms around him in a hug.

"Yes, that's right. Mommy's back now. She's better now, she can take care of you." she said, tightening her arms around Alfred, who was nearly the same height as she was.

She pulled away after a few moments, turning to Matthew, "There you are sweetie. I almost didn't recognize you, you've grown so much."

She took a step towards him, but he glued himself to Francis, who wrapped his arms around him, "Who are you?" he asked, regarding her with fear.

She was startled, "Sweetie it's me, it's your Mother." she said, reaching out to him. Matthew shrunk back, hiding his face in Francis's shirt.

"Please, just leave." Arthur said, the silence pressing around them.

She dropped her hand. Silently, she walked past them and put her shoes on. Just before she walked out the door, she turned and said, "I will be a good mother." and then left.

Silence rang in their ears and pressed down heavily on their shoulders. After a moment, Alfred ran forward and wrapped his arms around Arthur, shaking like a leaf in a storm.

"Papa, allons-nous être bien? _[Papa, are we going to be okay?]_" Matthew whimpered, shivering against Francis.

"Nous allons aller bien. _[We're going to be fine.]_" Francis said, rubbing Matthew's back, "Juste amende. _[Just fine.]_"

**Author Commentary;** Dun dun duuun. Oh drama! Was it worth the wait?


	13. Tea

**Author Commentary;** So, back to the drama and angst. Just so you know, people will suffer as time goes on, because I'm an evil bitch like that. Mwahahahaha.

**Title;** Tea

**Characters;** America, Canada, England, France, OC

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** mild yaoi, homophobia, angsting, post traumatic stress

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

The next day, Arthur picked up the phone and made a long distance call.

"Arthur, I hope you know what time it is over here." Brittany snapped.

"You fucking bitch." Arthur snarled, "You set up that woman to come here, didn't you?"

Brittany snarled right back, "Watch your mouth you ungrateful little-"

"_Ungrateful_?" Arthur cried, "You kick me out at fifteen, you disown me for my marriage, you're currently trying to take away my children, and you expect me to be _grateful_!"

"Oh don't be so dramatic. All this could have been solved if you had just married a respectable woman. You brought this upon yourself Arthur." Brittany said.

"That's bullshit you damn slag." Arthur hissed, "I would've been a good kid if you hadn't been such a shitty mother. People only rebel successfully when they have something to rebel against."

"None of it matters now Arthur. Those boys will go and live with their real mother and have a shot a normal life." Brittany said.

"The hell they will. That woman is an abuser. If she could lay a hand on her children and stand by as her husband raped them when they were only five and six, she sure as hell can do the same now." Arthur said.

"They'll be better off with a woman, a real mother figure, in their lives." Brittany said, "And I'll make sure that it happens."

"Over my dead body." Arthur snarled, "This won't end the way you want it to. Those boys are my children, and I'll roll over dead before I see them in the hands of an abuser!" he shouted the last bit, slamming the phone down. For a moment, Arthur just stood there, fuming and breathing heavily.

"Tea. A nice cup of tea is just what I need right now." he said, trembling with the effort of keeping his anger in check.

After struggling with the kettle for a minute because of his shaking hands, Arthur sat down at the table with a pot of Earl Grey in front of him. After the first cup he started to relax, letting the familiar scent and taste calm his nerves and work its magic.

"Dad?" the quiet voice of Matthew drifted across the kitchen, "Dad, why were you yelling?"

"Oh Matthew, I didn't know you were home." Arthur said, "Did my yelling frighten you?"

Matthew dropped his gaze; Arthur sighed, "Sorry sweetheart." he waved the boy over, "Why don't you come over here and have some tea with me?"

Matthew shuffled over and sat down across from his dad while Arthur got out another teacup and poured him a drink. Knowing the boy had a sweet-tooth, he added milk and sugar for him.

"Here you are sweetie." he said, passing the cup and saucer over.

Matthew nodded and took it, "Merci." he said, taking a sip. He hummed in pleasure quietly and then sat silently with his father. Suddenly he looked up and blurted out, "Are we really at risk of going back to living with her?"

Arthur looked up from his own tea, startled, "No, of course not sweetie." he said, setting down his cup and reaching across the table to take Matthew's small hand in his own, "We would never let you go back to that Matthew, never."

"Do you promise?" Matthew asked.

Arthur squeezed his hand, "I . . . I can't promise anything yet, but I give you my word that your Papa and I will with everything we have to keep you here with us."

Matthew smiled at him and squeezed back, "I really want to stay here a home."

"I want you to stay at home too." Arthur said. They smiled at one another and returned to their drinks, changing the subject to a lighter topic and chatting until the teapot was empty and they felt a lot lighter on the inside.

When Francis and Alfred came home from grocery shopping, they found the two laughing at a joke that Matthew had just recited. A heavy atmosphere had settled in the house since the impromptu visit yesterday, but Matthew's light giggles and Arthur's modest laughs were infectious and soon they were all sitting at the table and laughing with one another.

They really hoped that this wouldn't be the last time they could be with each other like this.

**Author Commentary;** This is soooo short, but I like it the way it is. I don't want to ruin it by drawing it out. Hope you like it even though it's short.


	14. Broken

**Author Commentary;** Short chapter was short. I'm not sure how this chapter will turn out either.

**Title;** Broken

**Characters;** America, Canada, England, France, OC's

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Angst, homophobia

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Arthur couldn't believe it.

She'd done it.

She'd won.

A week or so after the boys mother, Lydia Jones, had shown up, they had gotten a call from her lawyer, telling them they were now in a legal custody battle for Alfred and Matthew. Arthur and Francis rose to the challenge, ready to fight for their children.

They hadn't expected Brittany to be backing her ever step of the way.

The lawyer, actually several of them, were being paid for by Brittany. The legal process was bribed by Brittany to move it along quickly, leaving Francis and Arthur no time to find a good lawyer. She arranged everything to take place in the US, and in a State where same sex marriage was frowned upon. She even paid off the lawyer that Arthur had managed to find (cheap, not very good) into poorly representing them.

The judges verdict still rang in Arthur's ears.

"_Custody of Alfred and Matthew goes to Lydia Jones!"_

The words floated around in his brain, the last words spoken to him by Matthew pierced his heart.

"_You said we wouldn't have to go! Daddy! Please don't let us go!"_

He broke his promise. He promised himself he'd always be there for them and they'd slipped right out of his hands. He said we would fight tooth and nail for them, but he'd just sat there in a state of shock next to his husband as they dragged their little angels away. By the time he'd come to his senses, they were already long gone. The only thing he remembered after that was what his mother had said to him.

"_I told you this would happen. You should have listened to me."_

Arthur's only response had been to spit in her face.

Francis sighed and buried his head in his hands. How had this happened? One day, everything was perfect, then one phone call later they're in a world of hell. His boys, his sweet little boys had been taken away from him. His strong, cheerful Alfred, his beautiful, tiny Matthew, both gone. They weren't even allowed to see them until they were legal adults. And since they now resided in the USA, that wouldn't be until they were eighteen. They would miss everything. The boys first day of high school, their first girlfriends, their first school dance, their first cars, everything. They would miss so much out of the boys lives, it was too much to bare. On the plane ride home to Canada, Francis had just held Arthur the entire time while he cried and cried and cried.

Francis sighed again. Since the boys had been taken, Arthur hadn't spoken a word. After crying for the first week, he'd done nothing but stay in bed and stare into space. Francis loved him with all of his heart, and he knew how hard it was for Arthur, but it was beginning to wear him down. Arthur hadn't spoken a word to him, barely looked a him, and wouldn't eat unless spoon fed. Francis had just lost his children, he couldn't deal with losing his husband as well, but every day Arthur slipped away from him a little more. For the first time since he had met the feisty brit, he had felt the urge to have a smoke, something he'd quit shortly after his first date with Arthur. It had been a little painstaking for him, but Arthur was like his counter addiction. As nice as the cigarettes were, Arthur had been so much sweeter. When the boys had come into his life, he hadn't even though about picking up a lighter. The stress of losing everything that mattered to him was becoming too much.

Francis pushed himself up from the sofa and went upstairs to where the bedrooms were. He stopped at the boys rooms, looking forlornly into them. He shook his head and continued to his shared room with Arthur.

He found his husband sitting up in bed, simply staring at the wall with a blank face. He didn't even look up as Francis walked into the room.

"_He's sitting up at least. It's a start."_ he thought. He slowly walked over to the bed and sat down next to Arthur. He just watched him for a few moments, but the silence stretched t thine for him and he moved forward.

"Arthur." he said, "Please snap out of it. I know you are upset about losing ze boys, but you cannot go on like zis." no response, "Arthur, please, I cannot lose you as well. Please, I am begging you to wake up." he whimpered, kissing Arthur's exposed collarbone and nuzzling his neck, a single tear sliding down his cheek and becoming lost in his beard.

For the first time in a long time, Arthur looked over at Francis. Through the haze in his mind, he deciphered Francis's words and frowned. How could he snap out of it? His children had been taken from him in the most brutal way. But then again, Francis was probably suffering just as mush as he was, if not more so because of Arthur's actions. Slowly, stiffly, he moved one hand up to cradle Francis's head and tangle his fingers in his golden hair.

Francis looked up at him, eyes wet. Arthur just looked sadly at him and and pressed their foreheads together. Francis wrapped his arms around Arthur's shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace.

That night they fell asleep sobbing in each others arms.

Alfred woke with a start. The remnants of the nightmare, faded from his mind, but the adrenaline rush he'd gotten assured him that he wouldn't be going back to sleep for a while. He looked over at Matthew sleeping soundly and smiled. He got up out of bed and went over to his brother's bed to give him a little kiss on his forehead and tuck him in tighter.

"Hope you have better dreams than I do." he whispered, brushing Matthew's pale flaxen hair out of his face and behind his ear.

Matthew hummed in his sleep and shifted, lifting his head for a minute, as though to be closer to his loving older brother. Alfred chuckled and decided that if he couldn't get any sleep, he would have a bite to eat instead and see if that helped calm him down.

Alfred maneuvered through the small bedroom and gently pushed the door open. This would have been easier if the door was connected to the doorframe properly and didn't have to be lifted so it could turn. After struggling to open it quietly (difficult because the hinges were rusted and squeaked if you opened it too fast), Alfred slipped out into the narrow hallway. Glad that, while he was quite tall, he was skinny, Alfred walked the two meters that it took to get to the kitchen. He rummaged around in the fridge for something quick, like an apple or some sort of fruit/vegetable to eat, but all he could find was junk food. Arthur had always been very strict about midnight snacking. You could have something, as much as you wanted, so long as it was a fruit or vegetable (or a glass of warm milk). Now that they lived here, with their mother, she insisted on buying them junk food and the like because she thought they would like it and in turn like her more. Truth be told, Arthur had taught them the importance of eating healthily and Francis was nitpicky about food in general, so Alfred and Matthew had picked up their habits.

Alfred sighed and grabbed a bar of chocolate. He liked chocolate very much, but he still felt awkward eating it so late. He compromised with himself and promised to only eat two rows. As he pulled the bar out the front door to the apartment opened and their mother walked in.

"Oh! Alfred sweetie, what are you doing up?" she asked.

Alfred tried to smile at her, "Um, couldn't sleep."

"Oh, okay. Do you want me to sit with you until you fall asleep?" Lydia asked.

"No thank you." Alfred said, taking his chocolate bar and quickly retreating to his room. By morning the chocolate bar would be melted because it was the middle of summer and they were in a more southern State. He could eat it all, but he'd promised himself and if there was one thing he never did was go back on his promises.

In the morning the chocolate was a gooey mess on the bedside table.

**Author Commentary;** Bweeheehee, I'm so evil.


	15. Adjusting

**Author Commentary;** So I was evil last chapter. Don't hope for much this chapter either.

**Title;** Adjusting

**Characters;** America, Canada

**Pairs;** None

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** homophobia, bullying, swearing

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Soon, school started for Alfred and Matthew. They were both excited and nervous; nervous because they were beginning a new school in a new country, but excited to get out of the apartment and away from their mother. They also wanted to get out of the rather mean looking neighborhood they now lived in. The other day Matthew had been walking down the street alone when a young man had come up to him and offered to sell him some marijuana. Matthew had freaked out and run all the way home, forgetting that he was supposed to be getting milk from the store on the corner. That hadn't been a fun day at all.

"_Where's the milk?" Lydia asked, glaring at the fridge._

"_Um, I didn't get any." Matthew said, fidgeting._

"_Why not?" Lydia asked, obviously angry._

"_Well, I met a man on the street and he offered to sell me some drugs so I ran home." Matthew explained._

"_Why did you do that? Just tell the man to go away and keep going" Lydia said._

"_I'm sorry, but I freaked out and got scared!" Matthew cried._

"_Don't raise your voice to me!" Lydia screeched, raising her hand and bringing it across Matthew's face in a stinging slap. The moment after, Lydia was on her knees in front of Matthew's chair cradling his face, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry." she wrapped her arms around Matthew and pulled him into a crushing embrace, "Mommy's changed, I promise. I'll never do it again. Don't worry, I've changed. It'll never happen ever again."_

That was how Alfred found them when he came back from the store (Matthew was too freaked out to go back, so Alfred decided to go instead); Matthew cradled in their mother's arms, sporting a nasty bruise on his cheek, and Lydia apologizing over and over again and telling him how much she'd changed and how it was never going to happen again. Alfred had convinced her to let Matthew go and took him into their shared bedroom. The moment they'd gotten alone, Matthew had burst into tears and clung to Alfred for dear life, and Alfred just held him until he fell asleep in his arms.

Since that day neither of them left the other alone in the apartment.

Now, however, it was time for the first day of school. They could be out of the house for most of the day, and if they made some friends, they could spend days at their places and not have to come home some days.

At the entrance to the school, Alfred squeezed Matthew's hand, which he had been holding since they left that morning, "Well, here's goes nothing, right?" he said, trying to smile.

Matthew smiled back and walked into the school with his brother. The school itself was nearly as bad as the neighborhood their apartment was, so when a few big scary looking guys passed by them, Matthew cowered and clung to Alfred. Alfred didn't mind and wrapped his arm around Matthew's thin shoulders to bring him closer, not caring that people gave them stares.

They had the same homeroom, so they just walked together to the class room. The teacher looked at them strangely, but they just smiled nervously and sat down. She gave a snort and went back to her work. When the warning bell rang, they expected everyone to start coming in, but no one showed up until the last few minutes before the bell rang, and continued to show up after the bell rang. The teacher barely noticed and just continued with what she was doing. After a moment, she noticed that almost everyone was there and stood up.

"All right kids, you know that drill. Keep your shit in line." she said, sitting back down again. The other kid accepted this and talked amongst each other.

"So, I've never seen you guys around here before. You just move?" one girl asked Matthew and Alfred.

"Yeah, from up north." Alfred said, smiling. She seemed nice at least.

"From where?" she asked.

"Canada." Matthew said, always proud to say where he was from.

She sniggered, "Must be hot for you down here, eh? Bet you miss your igloo, eh?" she said in that fake accent that TV Canadians were portrayed with.

Matthew frowned, "You do know that those are stereotypes, right?" he asked.

"You mean you don' live in igloo's?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

Matthew rolled his eyes and opened to answer, but she beat him to it, "Don't you roll your eyes at me you Maple-sucker." she snarled.

Matthew was taken aback. He'd never been spoken to like that before, nor had he ever met someone who thought they needed to be waited on hand and foot simply for existing and gracing people with their presence. Because he had never met such a person, he had no clue how to handle them.

"Um, I'm sorry?" he asked, not sure what had just happened.

"You damn well better be sorry." she sneered, leaning back in her chair and propping her feet up on Matthew's chair.

Matthew frowned, "No, I'm not sorry, and you're very rude." he said, pushing her feet off of his chair.

If the bell hadn't rung at that moment, Alfred was sure he would've had to pull that girl off of his brother.

The rest of the passed relatively easily. Since they were in the same grade despite being a year apart, they were in all of each other's classes. They didn't talk to too many people and kept to themselves, but a few people attempted to make conversations with them, not meeting much success. Both boys were amazed by how unfocussed all the other teens were, even for the first day. When lunch finally rolled around, they found a secluded corner of the cafeteria and opened their lunches.

"Why did she insist on packing for us if she was just going to fill it with junk?" Alfred whined, setting aside the mound of candy and other junk foods. Matthew nodded and did the same with his own 'lunch'. He dug around the bottom and pulled out what looked like it was a store-bought salad.

"Well, this is better than nothing." Matthew said quietly. He opened the package with difficulty and attempted to eat the overpriced chicken salad, "Goodness, nothing should have this much dressing on it unless it's packaged and sold _as_ dressing."

"No kidding." Alfred said, "And the chicken is so greasy." he said, chewing on a piece of lank lettuce.

"Hey, are you guys going to eat that?" came a voice. They turned to see a group of teenaged boys eyeing their piles of junk food.

Alfred and Matthew shared a glance, then turned back to the teens, "Take it. Take it all." Alfred said, pushing the piles their way.

They boys jumped on the piles like savage dogs, grabbing whatever they could as fast as they could. Then they sat down at the table with the two brothers, "You sure you don't any of it?" one asked.

"We're sure."Matthew said, pushing away the 'salad', unable to stomach another bite, "You can have that too if you want."

Alfred did the same with his, "If you can stomach it." he said, "Geez, I usually have a pretty good stomach, but that stuff is just gross."

Two boys scooped up the salads, "What are you talking about? This stuff is awesome."

Matthew rubbed his protesting stomach, "I guess we just aren't used to this sort of food."

A couple raised eyebrows; Alfred clarified, "We just moved in with our mother." he said.

"You lived with your father before?" one asked.

"We lived with our adoptive fa- I mean, parents." Matthew said. He didn't want to tell these boys that they had been raised by two men, unsure of their reactions.

"Oh, so now you live with your Mom and Dad again?" another asked.

"Just our mother." Alfred answered.

"What about your Dad?"

Matthew and Alfred, who still thought of Arthur and Francis when they heard the word 'Dad', answered automatically, "Lives in Canada."

A few stares, "So you guys don't see him at all then?"

Alfred furrowed a brow, "No, we lived in Canada with them." he said.

"But you said you lived with your adopted Mo and Dad."

"No, we lived with our adopted Dad and Papa." Alfred said.

A few confused stares, then realization. Many of the boys looked disgusted, a few looked horrified, and one wouldn't meet their eyes, "That's sick." one boy said.

Alfred tilted his head, "What is?"

"Homo's." one said.

"How so?" Matthew asked.

"It's unnatural." another said.

"Not really. There have been a lot of observations of animals engaging in homosexual or bisexual acts, so it does occur in nature." Matthew said.

"That's sick." the boys said again, "I bet your Mom got you back because those gross dudes, like, molested you or something."

"No, that was our biological father." Matthew said quietly.

The table went quiet, giving the two accusing glares even though they hadn't done a thing, then they left, making sure to bump into them painfully or avoid touching them at all costs. They just sat there, taking it all in stride. They'd encountered this sort of thing before, so it was nothing new to them.

However, as time went on, they noticed that no one would talk to them at all. They heard whispers of 'homo' and 'faggot' behind their backs, and had several cruel pranks played on them. At first, some of the teachers were helpful, but as soon as they realized what the pranks were about, they grew cold and unhelpful. Their grades were low, even though they both did well in class. This made their mother angry with them; sometimes she would even hit them, though she always apologized right afterwards. Not having anyone to go to, Alfred and Matthew endured. They rarely ate what their mother prepared for them, and made their own meals whenever they could. Matthew grew thin and weak, making him a target for physical bullying. Alfred, however, only continued to get bigger and more muscular, filling out his already tall frame. He didn't really want to fight, but he used his bulk to protect Matthew, getting into fights now and then. More anger from their mother, which led to more violence.

One night, while Matthew and Alfred were home alone, Matthew said quietly, "I want to go home."

Alfred looked up at his tiny, bird-frail brother. He reached across the table and took hold of his hand, "I want to go home too." he said, "I want to go home and get Dad to read us some of his fairy tales."

Matthew squeezed his brother's hand, "And eat Papa's cooking." he said, smiling at the memory of the taste of _real_ food.

Alfred smiled, "And get Dad to get us ice water when it's too hot."

"And get him to cover us in blankets when it's too cold." Matthew said, "With a nice pot of hot tea."

"Or Papa's café au latte." Alfred said.

Matthew sighed, "We could all curl up together in front of the TV, watching a game, or a movie, all nice and warm." he sighed again, this time sadly, "I want to go home." he started to tear up, "I want to go home!"

Alfred leapt out of his chair and pulled his brother into a tight embrace, remembering not to squeeze too tight, lest he accidentally bruise his baby brother, "I know, know. Just wait, in a few years, we can go see Dad and Papa again. We just have to wait a while. I'll protect you until we're both eighteen and then we can go home and never have to come back." Alfred said, stroking his little brother's fine hair.

Matthew sobbed and hiccoughed into Alfred's shirt, "I miss them Alfred. I miss them so much."

Alfred buried his nose in Matthew's hair, "I know, me too." he pulled away and looked into Matthew's eyes, "I will never leave you Matthew, I will always protect you, no matter what."

Matthew sniffed, "Promise?"

Alfred pulled him back into his arms, "I promise."

**Author Commentary;** Well, I'm not too sure about this chapter, but the show must go on. Hope you enjoyed it a little bit at least.


	16. Adapting

**Author Commentary;** More angsty stuff. Hope you enjoy it.

**Title;** Adapting

**Characters;** France, England, Finland, Denmark, mentions of others

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** depression, angst, yaoi, unicorns

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Things weren't getting any better.

Well, one shouldn't say that. Things were slightly better now; Arthur was up and about somewhat, and he ate and spoke a little now, so it wasn't as bad as it had been.

But it basically stopped there.

Arthur couldn't even think about the boys without becoming emotional. Francis had tried putting away some of the photos of the boys they had around the house, but Arthur had only freaked out even worse at him.

"_What are you doing!" Arthur cried, watching Francis taking the photograph taken of Alfred and Matthew shortly after they came to them._

"_Cher, you cannot even look at zese photos wizout bursting into tears. I need you to get better, and I will do what I must to see zat you get zere." Francis said sadly, "I do not want to put ze boys out of mind either, but it is too painful for you to be reminded Arthur."_

_Francis went back to packing away the photo when Arthur shoved him, "Don't just shut away such an important part of our lives!" he shouted, snatching the box of photo's that Francis had gathered, "You can go and forget about the boys all you want, but I'll __**never**__ be a part of it!" he cried, taking the box and running upstairs._

It had taken Francis hours to convince Arthur to unlock the door and another half an hour for him to hand over the photo's to Francis so he could put them back up. Arthur still hadn't forgiven him completely for trying to shut the pictures away, but he'd agreed to put more effort into recovering. After a while, and some pushing from Francis, he'd started going to a therapist.

"So Mister Kirkland, what is troubling you?" the therapist, a man in his late forties by the name of Dr. Onstein, asked.

"My children were taken away from me." Arthur said, "I raised them since they were only six and seven, and they were taken away from me."

It was difficult for Arthur, having all of his emotions dragged up and splayed out for the doctor to pick apart piece by piece, but he persisted. Eventually he was prescribed an anti-depressant that was supposed to have no side effects, but Arthur had to stop taking them after he began seeing 'things'.

"I swear it's right there!" Arthur cried, pointing down an unoccupied aisle of the grocery store.

"Mon cher, you know I love you very much, but I assure you zat zere is nozing zere." Francis said, trying to ignore the stares coming their way.

Arthur huffed, "Francis I'm telling you, there's a fucking unicorn right there!"

"Arthur, why don't we go 'ome and 'ave some tea?" Francis suggested. The groceries could wait, he needed to get Arthur away from people where he could embarrass and/or hurt himself.

"Can the unicorn come as well? She looks lonely." Arthur said, looking back down the aisle.

"She will not fit in ze car sweetie." Francis said, wrapping his arms around Arthur's shoulders and tugging him away.

"Can't you just let her run beside the car?" Arthur asked.

"Zat would be animal cruelty cher. Tell you what, if she follows you 'ome, you may keep 'er." Francis said.

As Francis attempted to get them out of the store, Arthur kept turning and cooing at the 'unicorn', attempting to coax it into following him home.

Needless to say, Arthur had been taken off of that medication and out on a milder one. He no longer saw unicorns, but these anti-depressants weren't as effective. Arthur ended up being able to semi-function in normal life, going through depressed episodes often, but being able to return to work after a while.

"Are you sure you're okay Mister Kirkland?" Tino, the café's Finnish employee asked worriedly.

Arthur managed a weak smiled, "I'll be fine." he said, voice horse.

Tino didn't look convinced, "Are you sure? Berwald and Matthias and I could take care of things here. You could go home and rest if you like."

Arthur was very tempted, but he couldn't leave Francis alone at the restaurant. He needed to recover from his depression, if not for himself, then for Francis, who had been suffering just as much as he had, but hadn't had time to deal with it because of him. Arthur smiled again, "I'll be fine Tino. It's . . . It's hard for both Francis and I, but we're going to have to manage, aren't we?"

Tino frowned, but left it at that. Arthur was grateful. Nearly all of his family had called and attempted to 'reach' him. He didn't need reaching, he needed to hold his boys again. His little Alfred who wasn't so little anymore, and his darling Matthew who never hurt a fly. He new he would probably see them again as soon as they were old enough, and he would have to get over this loss eventually, but it still hurt. It still hurt that he _lost them and she won and_ . . .

"Hey, you okay boss?"

Arthur snapped out of his thoughts to see Matthias Køhler, their Danish employee, standing over him, a look of worry and confusion on his face.

"Oh, Matthias. I'm fine, nothing to worry about." Arthur said, trying to sound convincing.

Matthias furrowed his eyebrows, "Why'r you crying then?" he asked.

Arthur blinked in confusion and brought a hand up to his cheek. It came back wet.

"Oh goodness, I must have gone off in thought." Arthur said, trying to laugh it off. Matthias narrowed his eyes.

"Hey Berwald! Cover for me for a moment!" Matthias called. A grunt came back in reply from the Swedish busboy they hired shortly after hiring Tino. Matthias shouted something in Danish and then dragged Arthur by the arm into the kitchen, "Hey Francis! I think Arthur needs to go home."

Arthur yanked his arm away, "I am perfectly capable of working today!" he cried.

Francis put down the knife he was using to chop up some celery, "Cher, you know what we agreed on. If you are not well, you need to go 'ome and rest." he said tiredly.

"I can work." Arthur insisted, "I'll just go over some of the inventory that needs to get done." he said, trying to smile.

Francis sighed, "Arthur, I know you are trying to help, but you need rest. Go 'ome." he said, turning back to the celery.

Arthur flinched; he knew that Francis loved him with all of his heart (and this being Francis, he had a lot of 'heart'), but that had still stung. Slowly, as though he was afraid that his husband would push him away, Arthur wrapped his arms around Francis from behind, burying his nose into the Fabric of his nice shirt.

"I'm sorry." Arthur whispered, tightening his grip, "I know that you're suffering as well, but I can't help it. It's just so difficult for me."

Francis sighed and put down his knife again, placing his hands over Arthur's on his torso, "I know cher." he said, "I am sorry as well, I did not mean to snap."

Arthur nuzzled his cheek against Francis' shoulder, "I'll go home." he said, "I need rest."

Francis rubbed little circles on Arthur's hands with his thumbs, "I zink I will go wiz you. I am not feeling well myself today."

Arthur sighed against Francis' back, "Yeah, lets just go home and rest."

Francis smiled tiredly, "Zat sounds nice."

Later that evening, Francis and Arthur just laid in bed together, the most they did in bed together nowadays. At least they were cuddled up close now, instead of curled away from one another like the last few weeks. Francis lovingly ran his hands through Arthur's short, spiky locks and Arthur nestled his head in the crook of Francis' neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent of his mild cologne and a hint of cooking spices.

"Do you remember 'ow we met cher?" Francis asked suddenly.

Arthur smiled a little, "How could I forget? You groped my arse and licked my ear."

Francis chuckled, "And you gave me a black eye and a split lip." he said, "I remember you saying to your brother how you would never, ever, date a pervert like zat."

Arthur smiled wider, "And here we are, years later, cuddling, each with a ring on his finger and wedding vows never broken." he said. After a serene moment, Arthur murmured, "I love you Francis."

Francis paused his stroking a moment, then wrapped his arms around Arthur slim shoulders, "Je t'aime Arthur." he said back, laying a kiss to Arthur's forehead.

Arthur hummed and squeezed his arms around Francis' waist. Francis kissed his forehead again, then both cheeks, then down his succulent neck. He kissed his way back up and stared into Arthur's piercing green eyes. His breath puffed against Francis' lips, tickling his beard. Slightly, he tipped his head up, signaling to Francis that it was okay. The older man hummed deep in his throat and dove forward to claim those pouty, teasing, loving lips.

**Author Commentary;** Aha, no smuts for you. *bricked* Ouch. Okay, if you want an omake chapter dedicated to some delicious FrUK comfort!sex, just review me and answer this question; What country do I (Hitomi Shirou) live in? Should be pretty simple if you were paying attention. If enough people get it right, I'll give you smut. Happy reading!


	17. Comfort

**Author Commentary;** Well, you guys guessed it (mostly) correct, I'm Canadian (and proud of it woot woot), so you get your smut. This'll probably be short and not very good, but you asked for it, so here it is.

**Title;** Comfort

**Characters;** France, England

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** M

**Warnings;** Hardcore yaoi, smut

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia

Francis kissed Arthur slowly, sensuously, as though testing the waters. Arthur kissed back after a moment, wrapping his arms around Francis' neck and pulling him closer. Francis sighed and circled his arms around Arthur's waist, bringing their hips into contact. They both shivered at the contact and continued to kiss. Francis poked his tongue against Arthur's lips, asking for entrance. Arthur slowly opened his lips, letting Francis map out the familiar territory of his mouth.

"Francis." Arthur panted in between kisses, "Don't leave me."

"Jamias mon amour. _[Never my love.]_" Francis breathed, moving from Arthur's mouth to worship his neck and jaw instead, "Vous êtes mon tout. Je t'aime avec tout mon coeur Arthur. _[You are my everything. I love you with all of my heart Arthur.]_"

Arthur whimpered. He'd always loved it when Francis spoke French to him, despite denying it afterwards. The way the words spilled over that delicious tongue like silk sent shivers up Arthur's spine.

Francis let more French spill from his lips as he lavished Arthur's neck and collarbone with kisses and nips. His nimble fingers undid the buttons of Arthur's shirt quickly, exposing more silky skin as the fabric fell away. Francis kissed every inch of skin he could find, lacing everything he did with gentleness and as much love as he had when they first had sex. Francis removed the shirt altogether and sat back to take off his own shirt and get a better look at the man underneath him.

He honestly had no idea how they had come this far. Before Francis had met Arthur, and for a while after, he had only been involved in loose relationships with little or no commitments. The most he had to do with his partners was show up at the appointed times. But Arthur was so different. His abrasive nature usually would have been enough for Francis to consider a different target, but Arthur was also the type to, if he had a relationship, become committed to that relationship, as in boyfriends and lovers, not like Francis' sex friends. The very thought that he would end up marrying at all would have sent Francis into tears of laughter during his teen years, let alone marrying someone like Arthur.

"Comment nous avons terminé vers le haut comme ceci est un mystère, mais je ne le changerais pour le monde entier. _[How we ended up like this is a mystery, but I wouldn't change it for the entire world.]_" Francis said, running a hand up Arthur's side, feeling the prominent ribs poking out from under his skin.

Arthur blushed, "S-sap." he said.

Francis smiled down at him and then leaned over to kiss him again. They both moaned at the skin on skin contact, Francis's chest hair and beard tickling Arthur a little. Both let their hands wander and explore as though this was the first time they had ever made love. Francis trailed his fingers up to Arthur's dusky nipples, rubbing them sensuously until they hardened under his touch. He moved away from Arthur's lips and kissed a trail down to the little buds, licking and nibbling at them.

"Mmmh." Arthur moaned, wiggling his thin hips under Francis'.

Francis chuckled and brought his hands down to the front of Arthur's pants, rubbing him through the denim. Arthur gasped and rutted his hips upward, trying to create more friction. Francis smirked and undid the button and zipper, shoving his hand into Arthur's pants and boxers, stroking the half hard erection.

"Aaah." Arthur whined, gripping Francis' shoulders, "D-don't tease."

"Zis is not teasing mon cher, zis is foreplay. It is essential non?" Francis breathed, licking Arthur's ear.

Francis pulled his hand away from Arthur's prick and pulled his pants and boxers away and off. Arthur lifted his hips helpfully, reaching for the front of Francis' pants after he was successfully naked. The older man lifted himself up as to give his husband a better angle to work with. Arthur shoved Francis' pants down around his thighs and stopped, sitting up.

"What are-? Ahhh~" Francis cut off with a moan, letting himself go to the feeling of the Brits' tongue on his dick.

Arthur pushed Francis back so he was sitting down on the bed. Francis moaned and wiggled out of his pants so he was as naked as the one servicing him. Arthur's butt wiggled in the air as he took more of Francis into his mouth. Blue eyes watched that beautiful ass shift from side to side, twitching every now and then. They were short on lube, so Francis stuck his fingers into his mouth and tried to get them as wet as possible.

Once his fingers were deemed wet enough, Francis pulled them out of his mouth and reached forward, circling Arthur's puckered hole with his index finger. Arthur moaned, jerking a little on Francis' cock. Francis cradled Arthur's head in one hand while he worked the other into Arthur's tight entrance.

"_It's tighter than I remember."_ Francis thought, _"We haven't done this in a while."_

Arthur whined and moaned, mouth still sucking Francis' length like it was a particularly good lollipop. Francis panted and tried to concentrate on stretching that wonderful ass to fit around his cock. Arthur licked the head and then tried to take as much of Francis as he could, relaxing his throat until he was practically swallowing it whole.

"Uuhhhnn~ Cher, if you do not stop zat, we will finish zis much too soon." Francis panted, scissoring two fingers within Arthur's entrance.

Arthur pulled back, licking the tip a few more times as Francis stretched him. Once he was stretched enough, Francis removed his fingers and lifted Arthur up to face him. They stared into each others eyes, deep sky blue meeting bright forest green. Their breath mingled between their lips. Francis wrapped his arms around Arthur's slim shoulders and laid him back down on the bed, placing himself above him and aligning their hips just so.

"Prêt? _[Ready?]_" Francis breathed, kissing Arthur's cheek.

"Please Francis." Arthur panted, "I can't take it anymore."

Francis smiled and kissed Arthur on the mouth, slowly moving his hips forward, inserting himself into Arthur's tight warmth. Arthur groaned into Francis' mouth, spreading his legs and ignoring the burning stretch he felt. Once fully within Arthur's soft walls, Francis stopped, letting his husband adjust to him.

Arthur wiggled his hips, "M-move." he grunted out.

Francis sighed and began shifting his hips, thrusting lightly. He kept a steady pace and changed his angle from time to time, trying to find that special spot that made Arthur forget everything aside from him.

"A-ah!" Arthur cried, arching his back and wrapping his legs around Francis' hips.

"Is zat where you want it cher?" Francis purred, thrusting harder into that spot.

Arthur keened, "Yeees!" nails scratching furrows into Francis' shoulders.

Francis groaned and started thrusting as hard as he could into that spot, making Arthur writhe and cry out from underneath him. Francis groaned as he felt the other man tighten around his length and thrusted harder. They wouldn't last long like this. Francis reached one hand around and wrapped it around Arthur length, jerking it in time with his sporadic thrusts.

"A-aaaaahhh!"Arthur cried, back arching as he came in spurts across both their stomachs.

Francis hissed as Arthur's walls contracted around him, squeezing him until he could barely move in and out. He groaned and released inside of Arthur, filling him with his seed.

They stayed suspended in the waves of pleasure for a few moments before slowly spiraling back down into the real world. Francis pulled out with a squelching noise and collapsed on top of Arthur, burying his nose into Arthur's neck and inhaling his scent. The entire room smelt of sweat and sex, so familiar to the two of them.

Francis propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at Arthur, still panting and flushed. His atrocious eyebrows were creased together and his unruly mop of blond hair was matted with sweat and stuck to his forehead in places.

"Vous êtes la chose la plus belle que j'ai jamais vu Arthur. _[You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen Arthur.]_" Francis whispered, kissing both reddish cheeks.

Arthur moaned, and wrapped his arms around Francis' shoulder again, massaging the scratch marks he knew were there, "I love you Francis." he whispered back, leaning blindly up to try and kiss his husband.

Francis smiled and kissed those forever pouty, slightly chapped lips, "We will get zrough zis togezer mon cher. Let us share our pain." he said.

Arthur sighed, "Okay. I'm . . . I'm sorry for the way I've been acting."

Francis curled himself around his one and only love and pulled them into a more comfortable position for cuddling, "It is all right. I 'ave been acting undesirably as well cher."

Arthur tucking his head under Francis' chin, "No you haven't. You've been the most wonderful person on the planet, putting up with me and still having the patience to say 'I love you' to my face."

Francis squeezed him tighter, "I will always be able to say zat I love you mon mari adorable _[my adorable husband]_. Do not ever zink zat I do not love you."

Arthur said nothing and just snuggled into the fuzzy chest of his husband. Francis just sighed and ran his hand through the sweaty locks of dirty blond. They fell asleep like that, for the moment in a peaceful world where all was well and Alfred and Matthew would complain the next morning about the noise and Francis would laugh it off while Arthur would sputter and deny it. Then they would all be off to either school or work.

They could dream, couldn't they?

**Author Commentary;** Gar this took a while to write. This is why I don't write smut often. I suck so much at it. Blah.


	18. Torture

**Author Commentary;** I was going to post this chapter before the smut chapter, but I decided against it. Oh well, here you go.

**Note;** Cuba's name is Miguel in this fic

**Title;** Torture

**Characters;** America, Canada, Cuba

**Pairs;** hinted one-sided Cuba/Canada

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** homophobia, depression, angst, child abuse, violence

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

"Hey! Alfred!"

Matthew turned around, startled to see a large teen advancing toward him, "Um, I'm not-"

The teen didn't give Matthew a moment to speak before landing a punch square in his gut, "That's for what you did in gym class you fucker!" he snarled.

Matthew coughed on the floor. If he had any food in him, he would have thrown up. Tears stung his eyes and his ribs felt like they were on fire.

"What the fuck man!" Alfred cried, having come back from returning some books Matthew had taken out, "Why did you do that!"

The young man looked surprised, "What the- there are two of you?"

"I'm Matthew." Matthew said weakly, coughing, "I'm his brother."

"Brother?" the teen said, then his eyes widened, "Oh holy shit! I'm sorry! I thought you were this douche bag!" he cried, stooping down to help Matthew back to his feet, brushing the dust off of him, "I'm so sorry! You look a lot a like so I just-" he seemed to wither where he stood.

"It's okay." Matthew said, smiling, (though it looked more like a wince), "I'm sure whatever Alfred did probably deserved that."

"Hey!" Alfred said, "I don't even remember this guy!"

"I'm Miguel!" the darker teen shouted, bristling.

"Oh yeah!" Alfred said, perking up, then he glowered, "You were one of the ones who glued my little brother's books to the desk." he snarled.

"I had no part in that! And even if I did, it was no reason to pants me in front of the entire gym class!" Miguel shouted.

Seeing that things were getting out of hand and quickly spiralling toward a fight, Matthew decided to intervene, "Alfred, why don't we just go? If we get home quickly, we can still make it to the store to buy groceries and back to eat before she gets home."

Alfred, forgetting Miguel's existence altogether, turned and smiled at Matthew, "Right! We can get some ingredients real quick and then have a nice dinner." he said, wrapping an arm around Matthew's shoulder and leading him away. Miguel looked like he wanted to say something, but let it slide when Matthew turned and mouthed 'sorry' to him.

Over the next few days, Miguel talked to Matthew a few times, getting along well with him and buying him ice cream once in apology for punching him. He and Alfred still didn't get along, but Matthew made sure to keep the peace as much as he could. When they could, Miguel and Matthew had nice, meaningful conversations.

"So are the rumours true? Were you really molested by two old dudes?" Miguel asked one day.

Matthew wrinkled his nose and shook his head, "No, Dad and Papa never laid an unwanted hand on us. Sure they hugged us and stuff, but that was all parental. They loved us. They probably still do."

"Okay, just curious." Miguel said, "Some of the other guys were talking about how you guys got molested and stuff so I was wonderin'."

Matthew curled up, pulling his knees to his chest, saying nothing.

"Woah, were you really molested?" Miguel asked, shock spreading across his face.

Matthew sighed, "Well, yes, but not by Dad or Papa. The only people who ever abused us were our Mother and our Father."

Miguel sucked in a breath, "Yikes."

Matthew rested his forehead on his knees, "I never really thought about it too much, but now that we're back to living with our mother, it's starting to haunt me. The things that happened." he shivered, "At least we'll never see our father again."

"Oh? What'd he do?" Miguel asked.

Matthew shifted uncomfortably, "He raped us."

Miguel choked on his own spit, "What?" he cried, turning to look at Matthew, "He did what to you?"

"He raped us. We were too small to fight back and he took advantage of it." Matthew said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Miguel felt his heart clench. He'd only known the boy for a few weeks, but somehow the frail little thing had captivated him. Most of the kids at this school had toughened up, even the smaller ones. But Matthew had stayed kind and gentle even with everything that had happened to him. Miguel wanted to protect that sort of pure heart.

Slowly, so he wouldn't scare Matthew away, Miguel wrapped a muscular arm around the boys tiny shoulders, "Don't worry kid. He won't get you any more." he said, rubbing his thumb into the fabric of his sweater.

Matthew looked up and smiled at Miguel, "Thanks Miguel." he said.

Miguel blushed and retracted his arm, coughing a little. Was it normal to feel butterflies when talking to your very much MALE (though he didn't really look it sometimes, damn cute baby face) friend? Miguel didn't think so, but it was okay, because those weren't butterflies, it was just gas, right? Right?

Right.

Miguel continued to grow closer to Matthew while vehemently denying any feeling s he was developing for the boy. Alfred, though unaware of Miguel's growing affection for Matthew, continued to attempt to keep them apart, even though Matthew insisted he could handle himself. Once Miguel figured out that Matthew wasn't eating lunch because it was always packed with junk food, he began bringing him traditional Cuban meals his mother cooked for him (she always made plenty so it was no trouble letting Matthew have some, even if he did insist on sharing it with Alfred). The food wasn't exactly to their tastes, but Matthew ate as much as he was given while Alfred made sure that Matthew had enough before taking any.

Unfortunately, others began to take notice of Miguel's friendship with Matthew. Particularly a few girls who were vying for Miguel's attention. He had barely glanced their way the entire year, and now this little Canadian brat was suddenly good enough to be given food?

"Who the hell does he think he is? Gay little shit." one girl snarled.

"Shut up Sadie." another girl snapped, "There's nothing we can do anyway, right Nancy?"

Nancy took a long drag from her cigarette, "You're wrong Lisa." she said, grinning, "We have to put that little brat in his place." she twirled her cigarette between her fingers and grinned, "And I know just how to do it."

Matthew wasn't feeling to well today. His ribs hurt a little and he had bruises all over his torso. Alfred had been out for a little while and hadn't been able to stop their mother from beating him. He'd managed to crawl away into their bedroom before any real damage could be done, but he didn't think he'd be so lucky next time.

"Hey kid."

Matthew turned, startled to see three pretty, but heavily make up'ed, young girls leering at him. He stopped in his tracks. One of the girls he recognized from his homeroom class, the one who had made fun of him being Canadian.

"Um, were you talking to me?" he asked, unsure if this was a good thing or not.

The girls tittered, "Of course we were talking to you sweetie." the lead girl said, "We were wondering if you'd like to come have fun with us is all."

"Don't we have class in a few minutes?" he asked, getting nervous.

They giggled and rolled their eyes, "Who cares about that?" one said. She gave him something that could only be described as 'bedroom eyes' and smirked, "Don't you want to come have fun with us?"

Matthew was really starting to freak out now. He needed to get to class, but he didn't think these girls were going to let him go so easily. He really didn't want to have to call Alfred over to help him, but he wasn't sure how to get out of this himself.

"Um, I suppose just for a minute or two." no sooner than these words had left his lips, Matthew found himself being dragged away by two of the three girls.

"Great! Just follow us! Don't worry, it'll take a few minutes." the smallest girl said, "I'm Lisa by the way. The girl on your other side is Sadie and the girl up front is Nancy."

Matthew nodded, but didn't say anything. He let the three girls lead him through the halls, half listening to Lisa's constant chatter. Was this really happening to him? Did he want it to happen? He was so confused that he didn't even notice where they were until they stopped.

"Um, isn't this the girls bathroom?" Matthew asked nervously.

The girls giggled, "Yeah, your point?" Sadie asked.

Matthew blushed, "I shouldn't be here." he said, "I really need to go."

As he turned to leave, Sadie reached out and grabbed hold of him, dragging him back and slamming him into a stall door, "Now now sweetie, you're not going anywhere until we're done with you."

Matthew shivered at the looks he got from the girls, "I r-really need to go." he protested as they reached for his shirt, pulling it off of his slim body, "We really shouldn't be doing this."

The moment Matthew's shirt fell away, Lisa and Sadie grabbed hold of him and pinned his arms behind his back painfully, "Ouch! What-!"

Nancy slapped him across the face, "Be quiet you little brat." she snarled, taking out a cigarette and lighting it, "You think you can just come here and do whatever you please?"

"Whatever I've done, I'm sure I can apologize for it properly if-" another slap.

"I said be quiet!" Nancy shouted, "Who the hell do you think you are, gettin' all friendly with Miguel and shit?" she growled. She took a drag of her cigarette and then pressed the lit end into Matthew's collarbone. She smiled at his pained screech, "You're a worthless little brat who ain't goin' anywhere in life. You're a sad being with no future and place in the world." another burn, another screech, "People like you should just die."

The torture continued for a few minutes until Matthew's upper chest was littered with cigarette burns and tears were openly falling down his cheeks. All three girls had said some of the meanest and nastiest things he had ever heard in his life. They made him feel horrible on the inside, even though he knew he had done nothing to deserve this sort of treatment. When they finally let him go he gathered his things and ran out as fast as he could, not stopping until he was behind the school next to a few dumpsters that had been so gratified that you couldn't even tell what the original colour had been. He slumped down and began sobbing uncontrollably.

"Matt?"

Matthew looked up to see Miguel staring confusedly down at him, "What the hell happened?"

After getting the story out of the blubbering Matthew, Miguel raged for a moment before dressing the tiny, shivering boy, careful of his burns, and led him away to find his brother.

"Matt!" Alfred cried as he spotted his little brother, "What happened to you! I was so worried!"

Matthew launched himself at Alfred, wrapping his arms around his neck and squeezing tightly, not caring that his burns were being pressed against the harsh cloth of his shirt. Alfred still didn't understand what had happened, but he held his brother as close to his body as he could without hurting Matthew.

"Why don't we go home, okay?" Alfred said softly to Matthew, rubbing his back. Feeling Matthew nod into his shoulder, Alfred gave Matthew a quick squeeze and began leading him out of the school, Miguel following close behind. They stopped quickly to speak to a teacher, who didn't seem to care that some kids were just leaving the school, and were on their way.

When Matthew was safely home and his burns were treated, they sat him down on the ratty sofa and tried to calm him down with a glass of milk and a few cookies.

"They said all of that?" Alfred said, outraged.

Matthew nodded into his glass of milk. Aside from letting Alfred know everything, he hadn't said a word. He looked like he had lost every gram of innocence left in his body. Alfred felt sick. This was the sort of thing he was supposed to be protecting his little brother from. He'd failed as a big brother.

Alfred wrapped his arms around Matthew, "I'm so sorry." he said.

Matthew leaned into him, something Alfred didn't feel he deserved. He'd had no idea what had been happening to Matthew, something he could have stopped if he knew. He didn't deserve Matthew's complete trust in him. He was a horrible, horrible person.

Miguel just watched them and hoped that, whatever happened, these two brothers would never grow apart.

**Author Commentary;** Well, this took longer than expected. Oh well, hope you liked it. BTW, I might not have as much time to write anymore, since school has started and everything. I'll still be writing, it'll just be between me trying to make an entire year of History 12, Principles of Mathematics 12, Phycology, English 12, and Physics 11-12 work without imploding my brain. Wish me luck.


	19. Snap

**Author Commentary;** So here we are. The chapter I've been just dying to write. Hope you enjoy it as much as me.

**Title;** Snap

**Characters;** America, Canada

**Pairs;** None

**Rating;** M

**Warning;** Swearing, violence, suicide

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

After a few days, Matthew returned to school. Their mother hadn't even noticed that he wasn't going to school or even that he was hurt due to her tendency to work from early in the morning to late in the day. Alfred insisted on staying, but returned for one day to help Miguel track down the girls who hurt Matthew.

"_Oh hey Miguel!" one girl, Lisa, said, voice squeaky and grating on Alfred and Miguel's ears, "What brings you here?"_

"_Though, I can't say I'm not unhappy about it." the lead girl, Nancy, said, "Or very surprised either."_

_The other two girls giggled and tittered to each other. Alfred and Miguel shared a look, then turned back to the three girls, "Would you mind coming with us for a few minutes?"_

_The girls exchanged looks of their own and quickly latched onto Miguel and Alfred. Nancy took Miguel all to herself and Lisa and Sadie hooked their arms into Alfred's. The boys didn't pay any attention to the girls chattering their ears off and simply led them to a secluded spot to set them straight._

After threatening the three girls into promising to never even look in Matthew's direction again, Alfred returned to guarding Matthew like an overprotective Doberman. When his burns were mostly healed, he decided he could handle school again.

"Are you sure? We aren't learning anything in that place anyway, we could just stay here and chill until we're eighteen and can go home." Alfred said that morning as they dressed.

"Al, if I stay in the apartment for one more day I'm going to go insane." Matthew said.

Alfred sighed, "If you're sure. It's a good thing our classes are all the same."

Matthew nodded, "Speaking of which, how did I get alone in the first place?"

Alfred shrugged, "I was getting a drink from the fountain and you kept walking I think. You do tend to be easily distracted sometimes."

Matthew blushed, "W-well I had a lot on my mind okay!"

Alfred laughed and gave Matthew a hug, "Aw, don't ever change little bro."

Matthew huffed and hugged Alfred back. They finished dressing, grabbed their lunches, left the apartment building, tossed their lunches in the dumpster, and then headed off to school.

"¡Hola!" Miguel said, spotting Matthew out of the crowd, "Feeling better poco ángel de la nieve? _[little snow angel]_"

Matthew smiled, "I'm fine Miguel, no se preocupe de mí. _[don't worry about me.]_"

Alfred looked very confused, "Mattie, since when do you speak Spanish?"

"Since I started teaching him, Americano del Imbécil. _[moron American.]_" Miguel sniggered.

Alfred glared, "Even I know that you just insulted me, Cuban asshole."

Matthew giggled at their antics and grabbed Alfred's hand, leading him on to their class.

Later that evening, Alfred and Matthew were attempting to watch a poorly dubbed Korean drama on the small TV the apartment had. Matthew wiggled into the ratty couch a little more, trying to get as comfortable as possible.

"Something wrong Matt?" Alfred asked.

"Nothing Alfred." Matthew said, probably too quickly. Alfred raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Matthew had been acting strangely ever since the incident. Maybe he was still feeling upset? Alfred wrapped an arm around Matthew's shoulders, "C'mon, what's wrong? You know you can tell me anything right?"

Matthew smiled, "Yeah." he paused, watching the TV screen flicker, "I guess I'm just thinking about everything that's happened to us. Now and when we were little. I think about it and I can't help but wonder 'why? Why us? What did we ever do?'" Matthew said, eyes open but not seeing.

Alfred stared at Matthew. Since when had his innocent little brother ever thought of these sorts of things? Where had the carefree Matthew gone? Who was this melancholy boy sitting next to him? Alfred decided that his darling little brother needed immediate cheering up.

"It's okay Mattie. We survived it once, we can survive it again." he said, not really knowing what to say, "So cheer up. Stop being so gloomy and frowny." Alfred got an idea and stood up, "Young man, I want you to stop this nonsense this minute and buck up." he said, adopting a very convincing British accent and the mannerisms of their favourite Brit.

Matthew laughed, "You sound just like Dad!" he cried in delight.

Alfred smiled, his plan was working! "Now there's a nice smile lad. Don't want to get all down in the dumps, now do you boy?"

Matthew laughed some more. Alfred decided to try his hand at imitating Papa, "Now cher, you must remember zat you are ze most beautiful when you smile non? So come on, show me your lovely smile."

Alfred continued to imitate their two fathers, making Matthew laugh non-stop. It felt good to be doing this, making Matthew happy, if only for a little while. He'd done a poor job of it lately, so hearing Matthew laugh was music to his ears. And, it was actually very easy to step into the persona of another for Alfred. He sort of liked being another person. It was fun.

After a good hour and a half of laughter, Alfred collapsed on the couch next to Matthew. They calmed themselves and sat in a comfortable silence, the TV playing the credits for the Korean drama.

"I have a major craving for croissants now." Alfred said, "The kind Papa used to make for us. They were so good."

"Especially when they were fresh out of the oven." Matthew said.

They sat for a minute, then Alfred stood up, "I'm going to go out and see if I can't find some croissants somewhere. Wanna come?"

"No, she isn't going to be home for another four hours and I'm feeling kind of tired." Matthew said, "You go on ahead, but don't forget to get me some if you find any."

Alfred chuckled, "Sure." he said, grabbing his coat and his wallet. He kissed Matthew's temple, then left the apartment.

An hour later, Matthew was watching TV when he heard someone thump on the door. He raised an eyebrow at it, but before he could contemplate what was going on, he heard keys jingling in the lock. Was Alfred back already?

Nope. In through the doorway stumbled their mother, looking very drunk. She staggered into the apartment, looking like she was angry with the world in general. Matthew shrunk down into the couch, hoping that he wouldn't be seen.

"Brat! Stop hiding and come out to face me!" she shouted, mumbling French curse words under her breath.

Matthew stayed where he was for a minute before slowly making his way over to the drunk woman.

She smiled at him and threw her arms around him, "There's my baby boy! How's my little Alfred?" she asked, slurring.

Matthew let himself be hugged, "I'm Matthew." he said.

Lydia looked confused, "Who?"

Matthew furrowed his eyebrows, "I'm Matthew, your other son." he snapped.

_Slap!_

"Don't take that tone with me!" Lydia cried, "I'm your mother! Respect me! Love me!"

Matthew reeled back, "I can't love you." he said, "I can't love a stranger."

Lydia slapped Matthew again. Her drunken ranting was no longer comprehendible, somewhere between drunken English and slurring French, but Matthew got the gist of it between strikes. He attempted to stay still as much as he could, trying not to provoke her any more.

"_Stupid, why did you say that? You're really going to get your ass handed to you now."_ Matthew thought to himself as the woman screeched at him and hit him with all her might. The beating paused for a moment and Matthew started to stand.

_Crack!_

Matthew dropped to the floor with a pained yelp. He looked up through blurry, dizzying vision and saw Lydia holding a knife sharpener, the kind that sort of looked like a sword. She brought it up again and descended it on Matthew's ribs. Matthew yelped at the sickening crack and rolled over onto his side protectively. The knife sharpener descended again and again. Matthew felt a blinding pain to his temple, then sweet, painless, blackness. The last thing he thought he heard was the door opening and someone cry out.

When Alfred came home, the first thing he saw was their mother, holding a heavy knife sharpener covered in blood standing over the bloodied form of his little brother. He let out a cry and ran forward, knocking Lydia off her feet. He crouched over his bloodied brother and tried to wake him.

"Mattie! Oh God, Mattie! Wake up! Please!" Alfred cried, cradling his brother in his arms.

A sharp strike to Alfred's head sent him reeling. He felt the warm feeling of his own blood seep out of a stinging gash to his temple, but paid no mind to it. Lydia was standing over him, looking ready to strike again. Quickly, before he even had time to think about what he was doing, Alfred reached up and grabbed the knife sharpener. His hand slid on the slick blood (his brother's blood, _oh God_), but he kept his grip and yanked it out of her hands. Alfred tossed it away and pushed the woman he had come to hate over into the corner of the couch. While she was stunned, Alfred scooped Matthew up in his arms and carried him into the bedroom. He shoved the door closed with his foot and gently laid Matthew on one of the beds. He momentarily turned his attention away from his prone brother and focussed on moving the other bed to block the doorway. Once finished, he turned back to his bleeding brother.

"Matthew?" he squeaked, not really believing that the figure on the bed was his brother.

Matthew was in very bad shape; he was very cut up and bloodied where there was exposed skin, his right leg was twisted funny, the bone in his left arm was sticking out through his bruised skin horribly, and their were funny bumps along his ribs, suggesting cracked and broken ribs. He was panting heavily and bleeding out of everywhere Alfred could see.

Alfred desperately wanted to scoop his little brother into his arms and hold him, but he would probably hurt Matthew even more if he tried to touch him. Just moving him from the living room to the bedroom must have done a number on Matthew.

Alfred crouched down beside the bed and clasped Matthew's broken fingers gently in his own, "I'm so sorry Matthew. I don't deserve to be your brother. I don't even deserve to look at you." he said, tears streaming down his cheeks.

A timid knock came to the door, "Alfred? Alfred I'm sorry! I won't do it again! I promise. I've changed! Don't worry, Mommies better now! She'll never hurt you again!" Lydia called through the door.

Alfred listened to her rant for a few more minutes before standing and shoving the other bed out of the way and pushing open the door, "You're not better!" he shouted at the crazy, blood covered woman, "You're a psycho bitch who beats her children!"

Lydia froze for a minute before raising her hand to strike Alfred. Alfred just grabbed her wrist and shoved her away, "You are a disgrace! You say that we're better off here with you, but the truth is that we were happy without you! The only time we've ever been truly unhappy is when we were with you! I hate you! Matthew hates you! We both wish you would just die and leave us alone!"

Alfred raised his fist and she flinched back, but Alfred just lowered his hand, "You aren't even worth the effort it takes to raise my hand." he said.

Lydia withered where she stood as Alfred's words sunk in. She dropped to her knees and began sobbing into her hands. Alfred stood their for a minute before running for the phone. He dialled 911 and told them what had happened before hanging up and running back to his prone brother, paying no mind to the distraught woman running around like a headless chicken. His entire focus was on Matthew until he heard someone behind him.

He turned to see Lydia standing in the doorway, holding a knife, "I wish I never had you!" she screamed, "Everything would have been fine if I had never had you! You ruined my life!" she cried. Much to the astonishment of Alfred, she turned the knife on herself, pressing the blade against her throat, "You killed me." she said. Then, before Alfred could even blink, she sliced open her own throat.

**Author Commentary;** I'm an evil, evil person. I'm going to hell for this.


	20. Righted

**Author Commentary;** So the last chapter was evil o my part. Buuuut things are about to get better (for a short while). I hope this chapter is a little better.

**Title;** Righted

**Characters;** France, England, America, Canada

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** mild yaoi, implied sex

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Arthur groaned and rolled over. He looked over at the clock, seeing the red numbers flash 5:16 AM and groaned again. Why was he awake at this hour? He grumbled for a moment before realizing that the phone was ringing.

"Who th' bloody hell calls at this hour?" Arthur growled, sitting up and reaching for the phone, "What the bloody hell is it?" he grumbled into the receiver.

"Mr. Kirkland-Bonnefoy?" a voice called, "Is this a bad time sir?"

"Considering it's five in the morning, yes. It's a horrible time." Arthur grouched.

"Oh, yes, I'm very sorry. I forgot about the time difference. I'm very sorry to disturb you, but I'm afraid it's very urgent." the young man said.

"Well, get on with it then." Arthur said, leaning back into the pillows, rubbing Francis' arm around his waist.

The young man took a deep breath, "From what I'm aware of, you and your spouse were guardians to two young boys until a few months ago. Is this correct?"

Arthur felt a pang in his chest, "Yes." he said, hoping his voice didn't crack.

"Well, something has happened and-"

"Something happened? What? Are the boys hurt? Are they okay?" Arthur said, sitting up suddenly.

"Well, um . . . I think it would be best to have that conversation with Mr. Alfred Jones. Right now, all I should be telling you is that Their mother is no longer able to look after them and you have become their guardians again." the young man said.

Arthur felt his heart stop in his chest, "I-is that so?" he said shakily, "Well th-that's-"

"Sir, we can arrange for you and your spouse to come down and pick them up. We can't do much for your return trip, but the very least we can do is get those boys into the care of someone who actually loves them." the young man said, "I'll give you my number and we can talk at a more convenient time for you."

They exchanged numbers and hung up. For a moment, Arthur just sat there, stunned. Then it sunk in. Alfred and Matthew were their again. They were getting their boys back! Arthur felt his chest swell and his eyes water. He leapt up and gave Francis a shove.

"Oof. Arthur, qu'est-ce que c'est? _[what is it?]_" Francis groaned, trying to get Arthur to stop shaking him.

"The boys Francis! The boys are ours again!" Arthur said, still shaking his husband awake.

"What?" Francis said, sitting up, "What's going on?"

"I just got off the phone. That woman, Lydia, can't take care of Alfred and Matthew anymore. We're their parents again!" Arthur said, completely ecstatic.

"What!" Francis said, completely awake now, "Arthur are you sure?"

Arthur nodded, "Zis is wonderful news!" Francis cried, throwing his arms around Arthur, "I cannot believe it! It is too good to be true!"

Arthur hugged Francis back, "I know! I can't believe it either!" Arthur said, tears of joy streaming down his face. They pulled back for a moment and kissed. A chaste kiss turned into a passionate one, and before long the two lovers were tangled on the bed in coital bliss.

Later that morning, at a much more reasonable time, Arthur called the young man back, "Hello? This is Arthur Kirkland; you called earlier about two boys?"

"Ah yes, Mr. Kirkland." the young man said, "I'm sorry for waking you earlier."

"Think nothing of it." Arthur said.

"Well, down to business. I called because there was an incident." the young man said.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "An incident?"

"Yes, an incident. Apparently Ms. Lydia Jones got fired from her job and went home, probably very drunk. From what we've gathered from Alfred, he came home and found Lydia beating Matthew with a knife sharpener."

"What?" Arthur said, horrified.

"When 911 services got there, they found Matthew in very terrible shape and Lydia dead; killed herself with a kitchen knife. Alfred is fine aside from being very shaken up and a few cuts and bruises. They don't seem to have any other family aside from your _*ahem*_ husband and yourself, so guardianship automatically goes to you." the young man explained.

Arthur nodded, then realized that he was on the phone, "Yes, well, I suppose that's one thing to be happy about."

They talked for a while before the young man, Timothy, asked if he would like to speak to Alfred.

"Can I?" Arthur asked, shaking with excitement.

"Yes. If you wait for just a moment, I can go find Alfred for you." Timothy offered.

Arthur eagerly agreed. After about fifteen minutes, the sound of the phone being picked up again came through the ear piece.

"Hello?" it's Alfred. He sounds tired and ragged and worn out, but it's Alfred.

"Alfred? Alfred sweetheart it's me." Arthur says quickly, heart thudding in his chest.

"Dad?" Alfred's voice cracks, "Dad, is that you?"

"Yes, sweetheart, it's me, I'm here." Arthur said, tears rolling down his face.

Alfred hiccoughed, "Dad, I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"No no sweetie, none of it's your fault. You did everything you could." Arthur said, attempting to reassure his son.

"But I wasn't **there**!" Alfred wailed, "I wasn't there to protect him! I should have been protecting Matthew! I'm a horrible brother!"

"Young man, I want you to stop talking that nonsense this instant." Arthur said sternly, then he softened, "You are the most wonderful big brother anyone could ask for. Do you remember the first day we met?"

Alfred sniffed, "Yeah."

"Do you remember how you protected your brother? How you stood in front of him and growled at me when he got scared?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah." Alfred said.

"Good boy. And do you remember how much you've done for Matthew? You always made sure that he was never left out of anything at school? Or when Matthew got hurt, you would get help and be there for him through everything? Or when Matthew was upset, you would sit down and cry alongside him? Alfred, you are the most wonderful brother Matthew could ever hope for, and the most wonderful son I could ever ask for." Arthur said.

Alfred hiccoughed one last time then said shakily, "Okay. Thanks Dad."

Arthur smiled, "Anytime love. Now, would you like to speak to Papa?"

"Yeah, I'd like that." a pause, "I really miss you Dad."

Arthur sighed, "I miss you too Alfred. We'll come get you as soon as everything is cleared up. I love you."

"I love you too Dad." Alfred said.

Arthur smiled again and passed the phone to an eagerly waiting Francis, "Mon cher? Is zat really you?"

"Hi Papa." Alfred said, "I miss you so much."

"Oh Alfred, tu me manque tellement aussi bien. _[Oh Alfred, I miss you so much as well.]_" Francis said, "Ah, I forgot, you cannot speak Français. I am sorry."

"It's okay Papa. I like hearing you speak French." Alfred said, "It's comforting."

Francis smiled, "Very well darling. I will speak en français pour vous. _[in French for you.]_"

Francis continued to speak french for a while, translating what he was saying after a minute or two each time. Alfred just sat and listened to the smooth French spilling out of his Papa's lips.

"Are you pleased mon cher?" Francis asked after a while.

"Yeah, thanks Papa. Listen, I have to go now, but promise me that you and Dad will come as soon as possible." Alfred said.

"Of course mon cher. Your Dad and I will be zere as soon as we can wizout a doubt. Compte là-dessus mon beau fils. _[Count on it my beautiful son.]_" Francis assured.

"Thanks Papa, je t'aime." Alfred said, "I'll talk to you later."

"Talk to you later Alfred. Je t'aime." Francis said, "Good-bye."

"Bye Papa. Oh, and don't forget to hug Dad for me, 'kay?"

Francis laughed, "Of course mon cher. 'ug your brother for me, bien? _[alright?]_"

"Okay Papa. Bye." Alfred said, then hung up.

Francis turned off the phone, then turned and swept Arthur into a giant hug, "Alfred sends you a 'ug." he said.

Arthur hugged back, "This is wonderful Francis. I'm so happy."

Francis squeezed Arthur tighter, "I am 'appy as well mon amour. _[my love.]_ I cannot wait to see our sons again."

Arthur smiled, then had a devious thought, "What do you think my mother's face will look like when she hears that I won?"

Francis just threw back his head and laughed.

**Author Commentary;** A bit lighter than the last chapter, if not shorter. Next chapter, the reuniting of the family! Yaaaaay!


	21. Reunited

**Author Commentary;** Well, the moment you've all been waiting for. Enjoy it now, because I'll go back to being evil fairly quickly.

**Title;** Reunited

**Characters;** France, America, Canada, England

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** small amounts of angst, mild yaoi

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

It took a few days to get everything ready, but finally, after months of depression and sorrow, Arthur and Francis were on their way to Phoenix, Arizona to see Alfred and Matthew. Arthur held tightly to Francis' hand throughout the entire flight, anxious and nervous to see his sons again.

"Do you think that the boys are alright? I mean, with everything that's happened, they must be feeling . . . What would one feel after such an experience?" Arthur asked.

"I 'onestly 'ave no idea cher. But I am sure zat zey will be very changed." Francis said.

Arthur looked a little stricken, "W-well, I suppose anyone would, after going through something like that."

Francis wrapped a comforting arm around Arthur's shoulders, "No one would get out of zat unscazed, but we will be zere to 'elp zem every step of ze way, right cher?"

Arthur relaxed, "Yes, I suppose you're right." he said, "Thank you Francis. I love you."

Francis smiled, "Je t'aime aussi Arthur. _[I love you too Arthur.]_" he said, pulling Arthur in for a kiss.

Arthur blushed, "Y-you idiot! People are watching!" he hissed.

Francis laughed, "Oh Arthur, vous êtes si adorable. _[Oh Arthur, you are so adorable.]_" then he smirked, "Il m'incite à vouloir faire des choses modifées avec vous d'auntant plus. _[It makes me want to do dirty things to you all the more.]_"

Arthur turned bright crimson and gave Francis a violent shove, "We're on a frickin' plane you moron!" he whisper-yelled, "There are people watching us, and don't you even think of dragging me to the bathroom. Those things can hardly fit one person inside them, let alone two people attempting to have sex, which we _are __**not**__ going to attempt you wine-faced bastard_, and furthermore, those things do _nothing_ to muffle sound at all, and will not spend the rest of the flight having people stare at 'that perverted gay couple who had sex in the bathroom'!" Arthur finished.

Francis pouted, "Trouble-fête. _[Killjoy.]_"

Arthur crossed his arms, "Damn straight."

Francis rolled his eyes, but smiled and took Arthur's hand in his own, glad that Arthur simply laced their fingers together.

When they landed at the airport, a young, mousy looking man waved them over, "Hello. I'm Timothy Waren, the one you spoke on the phone to. You are the Kirkland-Bonnefoy's right?"

Francis reached over and shook his hand, followed by Arthur, "Yes, we are. I'm Arthur Kirkland, and this is my husband Francis Bonnefoy." Arthur said.

Timothy nodded, "If you'll follow me, I can take you straight to Alfred and Matthew if you like, or we can stop at the hotel we've picked out for you."

"I zink we 'ave waited long enough to see our sons, do you not zink so?" Francis said, Arthur nodding in agreement.

"Alright then, this way please." Timothy said, gesturing for them to follow him. Arthur and Francis picked up their luggage and weaved through the mass of people after the small man.

An hour and a half taxi ride through big city traffic later, the finally arrived at St. Annette's Hospital, where Matthew was being held for the time being. Alfred could have been set up at a hotel, but he had refused to leave Matthew's side even for a moment.

"Matthew's up on the third floor, room 309." Timothy said, "My guess is that Alfred will be there as well. He's barely left his brother's side this entire time."

"Zat sounds like our Alfred." Francis said, sliding into the elevator and holding it open for his husband, "If 'e loves anyzing in zis world, it is 'is frère. _[brother.]_"

By the time they reached the right room, Arthur was almost a nervous wreck. Francis had an arm wrapped around him and was rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. Slowly, Arthur reached out for the doorknob, grabbing hold of it and turning it in a shaky grip.

Inside, the bone-frail figure of Matthew lay prone on the bed, sound asleep. Alfred was sitting up in one of the very uncomfortable hospital chairs, looking like he hadn't slept in days. As he turned to see who was coming into the room, his eyes widened, seeing the parents he had been near dying to see standing before him like a dream.

"Dad?" his voice cracked with tears, "Papa?"

Arthur, unable to hold back any longer, launched himself at his son, "Alfred!" he cried, "Oh Alfred, I've missed you so much!"

Alfred circled his arms around his father, "I missed you too Dad." he said, on the verge of tears.

Francis joined in on the hug, "Nous sommes de retour mon fils. Vous n'avez rien à craindre maintenant. _[We are back my son. You have nothing to fear.]_"

Alfred broke down into little sobs, burying his nose into the fabric of Arthur's shirt, even though he was nearly taller than him now, and much bigger.

"My goodness boy, you must have tripled in size." Arthur said once they had all shed their tears.

Alfred sniffed one last time, "Necessity." he said, "I needed to be strong."

Arthur smiled and put a comforting hand on Alfred's shoulder, "You are strong." he said.

Alfred smiled, covering Arthur's smaller hand in his own, "Thanks Dad." he said quietly.

A murmur from the bed brought their attention to a stirring Matthew. For the first time they noticed how bad of shape he was in. His leg was in a cast and his arm was in a brace. He was covered in bandages and stitches and was very thin and pale looking.

"His shin bone was snapped, his arm was a compound break, and his ribs were cracked. He's got some internal bleeding and a punctured lung, along with one hundred and seventy nine stitches, not including the ones needed for surgery." Alfred said, as though he had heard in and memorized it.

Arthur squeezed Alfred's shoulder one more time before walking over to his younger son. Gently, like he would break and crumble if he weren't careful, Arthur reached out and stroked his thumb down Matthew's bandaged cheek. Francis joined him at Matthew's bedside, running his hand through the matted golden locks. Matthew stirred again, this time fluttering open his eyes for a moment before closing them again.

"Matthew, ouvrent vos yeux mon beau. Vous êtes sûr maintenant. Nous prendrons soin de vous. _[Matthew, open your eyes my beautiful. You are safe now. We will take care of you.]_" Francis said comfortingly.

Matthew groaned and opened his eyes again, this time keeping them open, "Papa?" he croaked.

Arthur and Francis smiled, "You always did respond well to French." Arthur said, stroking Matthew's cheek.

Matthew's groggy eyes flickered to Arthur, "Dad." he rasped, "Where's Al?"

"I'm right here Mattie." Alfred said, coming around to the other side of the bed, "I'm always with you."

Matthew 'hmm'ed and shifted on the bed, "Al, ask Papa if he can make us some croissants." he murmured, near sleep.

Alfred chuckled, "Sure. Whatever you want Matt."

Matthew made another noise, and then was asleep.

**Author Commentary;** Short again, but awwwww, the family is back together again. Hope you liked it.


	22. Recovering

**Author Commentary;** Eeh . . . This will probably be a short and/or boring chapter.

**Title;** Recovering

**Characters;** Canada, England, France, Cuba

**Pairs;** FrUK, Cuba→Canada

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** depression, mild yaoi

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Matthew's road to recovery wasn't going to be as long as they thought it might be. The worst of his injuries were his lung and broken bones, and they would heal up just fine with the right amount of care. The muscle damage was minimal, considering the extent of the injuries Matthew had suffered.

"I expect that with the right amount of TLC, Matthew here will make a full recovery." the doctor, an elderly man by the name of Dr. McKenzie, explained.

"Ah, well that's good." Arthur said, relaxing a little, "How long do you think it'll be before we can move him home?" he asked.

Dr. McKenzie thought about it for a moment, "Well, we can move him to a different hospital, one in Canada,if that's what you were thinking, at any given time, but for him to be sent home would take a few weeks. And even after that he would have to be checked up on until fully healed."

"Oui oui, but we were zinking of simply moving 'im 'ome to Canada. Please understand, we 'ave nozing against ze States, but 'ealthcare is much cheaper in Canada zan it is 'ere." Francis explained.

Dr. Mckenzie laughed, "Yes, I understand completely." he said, "But I would recommend letting Matthew rest for a little while before moving him. Moving so quickly might put a strain on him at this point and delay recovery."

After debating for a while, Arthur and Francis agreed to stay in the US for another week to let Matthew rest for a while. Matthew seemed grateful for the extra rest, though he would have liked to spend more time with his family (awake anyway), and after six months of not seeing them, no one could really blame him.

"Go to sleep Matthew. We'll have plenty of time to spend time with each other when you're better. So we want you to get better as soon as possible so we can spend time together." Arthur said, attempting to coax Matthew into rest.

"I want to be with you." Matthew protested, even though he was struggling to keep his eyes open, "J'avais dormi le temps entier que vous avec été ici, je ne suis pas somnolent. Je vous ai maniqué. _[I'e been sleeping the entire time you've been here, I'm not tired. I missed you.]_"

Francis smiled and ran his hand through Matthew's hair, "Mon chéri, je vous connais souhait pour rester vers le haut avec nous, mais vous ai besoin de repos. Dites-vous ce qui, vous sont Dad et je resterai ici à votre chevet jusqu'à ce que vous tombiez en sommeil. _[My darling, I know that you wish to stay up with us, but you need to rest. Tell you what, your Dad and I will stay at your bedside until you fall asleep.]_"

Matthew nodded in agreement, there wasn't much he could do anyway, "Hold my hand?" he asked, twitching his good hand.

Arthur smiled, "Of course sweetheart." he said, slipping his hand into Matthew's, "Whatever you like."

Matthew smiled a little, then fell right to sleep.

"Poor dear." Arthur said, "I feel terrible for not being able to spend as much time with him as he wants."

Francis wrapped an arm around his shoulder, " 'e is injured cher, 'e cannot possibly stay awake wiz us wiz ze injuries 'e 'as sustained. It is best zat 'e rest and 'eal at zis point."

"I know." Arthur said, "But he really wants to spend time with us and he's barely been awake the entire time we've been here. Just like he said."

Francis sighed, "We cannot do much about it cher. Ze best we can do at zis point is be 'ere for 'im."

Arthur sighed and leaned against Francis, "I suppose your right."

Francis chuckled, "When am I not?"

Arthur elbowed him, "Wanker."

They stayed that way for a while, sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chairs next to their injured son. Alfred was at the hotel, sleeping, at the insistence of his parents and Matthew (during one of his waking periods), so they didn't have to worry about him too much. Once in a while, Arthur or Francis would leave for a short minute to use the bathroom, get food, or to simply stretch their legs. As the clock struck four, a knock came to the door of the tiny hospital room.

"Hello?" came a deep, gruff voice, "May I come in?"

Arthur and Francis shared a look, "Come in." Arthur called.

A young, dark skinned man with dread locks pulled back into a pony tail opened the door and stepped into the room. He was carrying a bouquet of flowers in one hand, a card in the other. His dark brown eyes rested on the two adults in the room.

"Oh, Hola, you must be Matthew's parents. I'm Miguel, a friend from school." Miguel said, looking a little nervous, "I heard what happened a couple days ago an' thought I should come an' see Mattie."

Francis smiled, "Ah, a friend of mon chéri's is always welcome." he said, beckoning Miguel forward, "I am sure zat Matthew would be zrilled to know zat you are 'ere."

Miguel smiled and relaxed a little, walking into the room and sitting down on the opposite side of the bed, placing the flowers and card down on the bedside table.

"Man, poor little ángel de la nieve _[snow angel]_ looks like he got run over by a train." Miguel said, "That woman really did a number on him."

"Yes, she did." Arthur said, "But he's back with us now, safe. No more worries."

Miguel nodded, then went quiet for a moment. "Um, would you mind giving me a phone number?" he said after a while, "I really like Matt and I'd kind of like to stay in touch with him. He's a good kid."

Francis smiled. He saw the look in Miguel's eyes when he spoke, the same kind of look he'd see in young boys eyes as they watched their crushes walk by and say 'hi' to them. Miguel had a puppy crush on sweet little Matthew. It wasn't too difficult to see. Matthew was sweet and kind, and in the sort of neighbourhood they had lived in, that sort of personality would be refreshing. Miguel didn't seem to know what his own feelings were, but Francis wasn't about to enlighten him. Matters of the heart were best left to the owners of said hearts.

"Of course you can 'ave our number. 'ere, I will write it down for you." Francis said cheerily.

Hey, just because he wasn't going to interfere didn't mean he couldn't enable.

**Author Commentary;** Bah, this is the best I can do right now. More angst will come, no worries. Or maybe yes worries. Bweeheehee I'm so evil.


	23. Guilty

**Author Commentary;** Okie-dokie, now back to business. You guys are just going to haaaate me.

**Title;** Guilty

**Characters;** America, England, France, Canada

**Pairs;** mentions of FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** angst, beginnings of bulimia

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Alfred paced up and down the hotel room. He knew he needed to be sleeping, but he couldn't seem to empty his head enough to drift off. What sleep he did get was plagued by horrible nightmares that ranged for his trauma's as a child to the more recent images of his mother, slicing open her throat in front of him, or standing over his bloodied brother with a knife sharpener, ready to bludgeon his brains out all over the floor. Sometimes it wasn't even images at all, just those horrible words and thoughts circling around in his mind.

_I could have been there to save Matthew._

_I should have been there to save Matthew._

_I let him get hurt._

_I don't deserve to be his brother._

_I'm a horrible person._

"_I wish I never had you!"_

"_You ruined my life!"_

"_You killed me."_

It was this last thought that usually had Alfred jolting up in bed in a cold sweat.

Fed up with his depressing thoughts, Alfred grabbed his coat and left the hotel room, stopping only to grab the spare key to the room. He needed to go for a run.

It seemed like forever since he gone out for a run. He hadn't had the time and he needed to stay by Matthew to protect him, so he hadn't been doing any running at all, even though he loved it.

_Look how well that worked out_.

Alfred shook the thought from his head and set out. The hotel didn't have a gym or anything like that, so he would have to make do with the street he was on. It was pretty long, but also rather busy. He would have liked a park or something, but he didn't know the area well enough to find one without getting lost.

Alfred stretched for moment, then took off down the street, avoiding passers-by. He missed this, this feeling of the world flying past him, his feet hitting the ground and launching him forward. He could almost forget everything like this. In this place he was in, he was no one but Alfred. He didn't need to be anything but himself.

Still, those nagging thoughts persisted. He couldn't seem to escape the fact that he had failed his brother, that he had been the cause for the death of the woman who gave birth to him. His existence was nothing more than a catalyst for destruction. He was horrible. He should be punished.

Alfred stopped. That was it! He could just punish himself and be forgiven. Granted, it would take a lot of punishment, but it could make up for all that he'd done. But what to punish himself with?

Alfred looked around. What could he do to himself that would be good punishment? A dingy looking McDonalds caught his eye. Perfect! He'd always promised his parents and himself that he would always eat healthy. He would be breaking his promise and poisoning his body if he went into a fast food place and ate their food. Just thinking about the greasy, chemical laced food makes Alfred's stomach churn and cramp. It was perfect.

Alfred quickly trotted over to the yellow arches and darted inside. The smell that hit his nose wasn't horrible, just the smell of cooking food. It was almost pleasant. However, the entire place seemed to be saturated in grease. It _looked_ clean, but the overwhelming presence of grease could practically be felt in the air. Alfred felt three pounds fatter just by breathing in. Still, he steeled himself and walked up to the counter.

"Hello, welcome to McDonalds. What can I get for you?" the young man behind to counter asked, putting up a fake cheery face on.

"Er, I'll just get a Big Mac." Alfred said. He at least knew what that was.

The young man nodded and began ringing up his order, "To stay or to go?" he asked.

"To go." Alfred said, he would loose his nerve sitting in a place like this.

"Fries?" he asked.

"No thanks, just the burger." Alfred said. Dear God, just give him his sandwich and let him get the hell out of here.

The young man gave him his order; Alfred paid for it and left. He gripped the grease bomb in one hand and took off down the street, not stopping until he reached the hotel room. The moment he was in private, he slumped to the ground, careful not to squish the burger.

"That wasn't so hard." Alfred said to himself.

Now came the hard part.

Alfred swallowed thickly and unwrapped the sandwich from it's foil wrapper. It smelled fine, but it looked rather greasy. Alfred tossed the foil away, stalling for time.

"_Man up and take your punishment."_ Alfred though to himself, _"It's just fast food."_

Steeling himself, Alfred took a bite. It tasted fine, almost good, but the knowledge of what was probably in it made his stomach twist. Still, Alfred diligently chewed and swallowed. There, see, he could do this. He took another bite and repeated the process, going over the motions again and again until he finished the last bite.

"There. Done." Alfred said, feeling a little better about himself.

Alfred stood and went to go watch TV for a few hours. His parents would be angry with him for not getting any rest, but he didn't think he could sleep just yet anyway, even though he'd punished himself enough for the time being.

Actually, maybe his self-imposed punishment had done a better job than he thought. His stomach felt fine, but his mind was swimming still, this time with the knowledge of what he had just put into his body. Francis would be furious if he ever found out; he considered fast food the blasphemy of the culinary world. Junk food was all right once in a while, as insisted by Arthur, but junk food was where the line was drawn. Alfred had never minded before, having grown up on delicious meals prepared by Francis, and Matthew was a committed anti-fast food activist (not really, he just pretended that fast food didn't exist), so he never minded either. Arthur admitted to grabbing some every now and again, especially when he was younger, but since becoming serious with Francis, the other man had pretty much taken over his daily diet (not that Arthur minded too much). Now the thing his family basically abhorred was in his system, infecting him with fat and grease.

Alfred shifted uncomfortably in his chair trying to focus on the TV in front of him. A commercial for McDonalds came on and Alfred groaned, _"Just stop thinking about it."_ he berated himself, _"Can't you take a little punishment?"_

With this thought in mind, Alfred stilled in his seat and tried to concentrate on the show he was watching. It worked for some time, but after a while Alfred began to freak out.

"_What if I get food poisoning? It'll worry everyone sick and no one needs the stress right now, especially Mattie. Oh God, and they'll all be so disappointed with me. Shit, I think the burger is starting to get to me. Oh man, I can __**feel**__ the fat settling in! Gotta get rid of it quick!"_

With that thought, Alfred leapt up and ran to the bathroom. Without really thinking about what he was doing, he kneeled down beside the toilet and shoved his finger as far down his throat it would go. His stomach heaved and expelled the putrid 'meal' up through his mouth and into the toilet.

Alfred kneeled there and panted for a few minutes, _"Weak weak weak."_ he berated himself, _"You can't even take a little punishment. What would Mattie think? He'd think you're weak, that's what he'd think, you sorry excuse for a human being. You can't do anything right, not even punish yourself properly."_

After rinsing out his mouth, Alfred grabbed his coat and wallet and walked out the door. He would punish himself adequately or die trying.

**Author Commentary;** Before you shoot/brick/maim/murder me, I have one thing to say; I really enjoy tormenting characters/readers. *runs away*


	24. Home

**Author Commentary;** So, have I ruined your day yet?

**Title;** Home

**Characters;** America, Canada, France, England, OCRepublic of Ireland, OCNorthern Ireland, OCScotland, OCWales

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** mild yaoi, swearing

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia

It had taken quite a lot of planning and negotiating, but finally, the Kirkland-Bonnefoy family was back in Canada, home. They were rather broke, but that could be dealt with later. Right now they only wanted to spend time together.

"You'll come visit me every day, right?" Matthew asked, having been settled into his new room in the closest hospital to his home they could find.

"Of course sweetheart. Papa and I will be back every day to see you for as long as we can." Arthur said, "We have to go right now, but We'll be back as soon as we can, okay?"

"Okay. I love you." Matthew said, reaching up for a hug. Arthur wrapped his arms around him and pulled away, letting Francis and Alfred both lean in for hugs as well.

"Je t'aime Matthew." Francis said, squeezing him gently.

"I'll be back before you know it." Alfred said, holding Matthew as close as possible without hurting him.

"I'll be waiting." Matthew said, waving to his family as they left, "Come back as soon as possible."

"We will, do not fret." Francis said, "Au revoir."

When Alfred, Arthur, and Francis arrived home, they were surprised to see an unfamiliar car in the driveway.

"Francis, did you know about this?" Arthur asked.

"Non, but does zat car not belong to your sister?" Francis pointed out.

"Yeah, I does look like Aunty Tiffany's car." Alfred said, peering over Arthur's shoulder.

"Alfred, sit down." Arthur said, then gave the car another good look, "Actually, now that I look at it, yes, I think it is my sister's car. Why on earth would she be here?"

"Oh I do not know cher. Per'aps she is 'ere to see 'er recently mended famille?" Francis said sarcastically, "You 'ave been speaking wiz your family again, so I saw no reason to tell zem ze good news, when you were ozerwise distracted."

"Ah, that would explain it then, you wine-faced frog." Arthur said, pulling into the driveway finally, "Should have known you would pull something like this."

"I 'ave know idea what you are speaking about Arthur, I 'ade nozing to do wiz zis. I merely called your family and told zem what was 'appening. No going be'ind your back at all cher." Francis said in a mock innocent voice.

"Ha! You're guilty of something and I know it." Arthur growled.

"Maybe I am." he purred, voice becoming husky and deep, "Punish me cher, I 'ave been naughty."

"Shut up!" Arthur cried, face flushed bright red.

Alfred laughed at his parents antics. He never realized how mush he missed them until now.

Arthur and Francis continued to bicker as they made their way inside, packing Alfred and Matthew's things with them. When they got inside, Jack was waiting for them.

"Arthur!" he said, leaping up from the couch, "You're finally home!"

"Yes, I am. What the blazes are you doing here?" Arthur asked.

Jack looked around nervously, "Mum heard about you getting the boys back and decided she needed to speak to you personally about it. She isn't happy at all Arthur. Maybe you should run for it."

Arthur growled, "Well, she can just get stuffed. They're my children and I'll be dammed if I let her take them away again."

At the moment, Alex came around the corner of the hall, "Oh, you here?" he asked, though it was rather obvious, "Guess the party can get started then." he said, "Hey Mum! Arty's back!"

Arthur sighed and set down the bags he was carrying. He was just steadying himself when he was faced with his mother, sitting in a wheelchair, sick and tired looking, with a very pissed off look on her face.

"What is the meaning of this?" she snarled, " I thought I ended this nonsense months ago."

"Apparently not." Arthur said, "I want you to leave my property this instant." he said firmly.

"Don't speak to me that way." Brittany snapped, "I'm your mother."

"I don't care." Arthur said, "I want nothing to do with you. For all I care, you can go ahead and die."

"How dare you." Brittany growled, "I should-"

"How dare I?" Arthur gritted his teeth, "You tell me that I'm an abomination, you disown me, you don't speak to me for years, you waltz back into my life like you have the _right_ to, you tear apart my family, you break into my house determined to keep it that way, **and you ask **_**how dare **__**I**__**?**_" Arthur shouted.

A flicker of intimidation showed in Brittany for a moment, then she quelled it. She glared at Arthur, "Don't you dare speak to me that way."

"I'll speak to you however I please." Arthur snapped, "I want to leave my property and never set foot here again. If you show up, I will not hesitate to call the cops."

If looks could kill, Arthur would have turned into fine red mist, "Do you realize what you are doing? I have the resources to make your life a living hell."

"You don't actually." Jack said, stepping forward, "When you signed over everything to us, the clause was 'when I become incapacitated or otherwise an unable to function independently, my company is to be set in the hands of my children'. You're too ill to be working your own company, we own it now. You have nothing." he said with a finality that hung in the room.

Brittany went white. She looked as though she wanted to say something, then shut her mouth and hung her head, folding her hands neatly in her lap.

Until the day she died, she never said another word.

**Author Commentary;** Sort of a filler chapter, and a break from all the drama that's been going on (needed to wrap up things with Arthur's mom anyway), but don't worry, next chapter will have plenty of my evilness in it.


	25. Cycle

**Author Commentary;** Rawr, I'm so late with this thing. Sorry about the long wait, shit happened and I didn't have the time to write. Blurrrgh. Oh well, what's done is done, so here's the next chapter.

**Title;** Cycle

**Characters;** America, Canada, England, France

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Angst, eating disorders, mild yaoi

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia or it's characters.

Alfred groaned and wiped the back of his mouth. Damn, he knew that he was punishing himself, but he really wished it didn't have to give him such a soar throat.

It had been a month since returning to their fathers, and Alfred was still punishing himself. He would eat the things he hated, punishing himself for the things he had done wrong, then shove his finger down his throat and throw it back up, punishing himself for eating the wretched food in the first place. It was a horrible cycle that he couldn't seem to get himself out of. He needed to punish himself for what happened to Mattie, but he couldn't let himself get unhealthy.

Alfred sighed and stood up, reaching for the glass on the counter. It was the middle of the night, and everyone was asleep, so he needed to be very quiet, lest someone hear him and inquire as to what he was doing. The last thing anyone needed right now was the stress of Alfred's issues on top of Matthew's healing process, Arthur's family running around like headless chickens due to the weight of the company that they were now in charge of, and Arthur and Francis nearly going broke.

"_So much is happening right now."_ Alfred thought, _"I wish things could just go back to normal."_

Alfred sighed again and went back to bed. Not that it really mattered, tomorrow, things would be exactly the same.

A few weeks later, Matthew was ready to come home.

"It's kind of exciting." Matthew said as they wheeled him through the halls of the hospital, "I haven't seen home since we left."

"It hasn't changed much. Just a bit disorganized right now." Arthur said, pushing the wheelchair as gently as possible.

Matthew giggled, "That's okay Dad, I'm just happy to be home."

"And we are 'appy to 'ave you 'ome, mon fils chéri _[my darling son]_." Francis said, stroking Matthew's hair once.

Matthew smiled and relaxed back into the wheelchair the hospital had provided for him. The moment they got off the hospital grounds, he was allowed to walk again, but until then he had to be in a wheelchair for his leg. He was mostly healed, but he still needed to be taking it easy for a while. In a few weeks, he would even return to school.

"How come Alfred didn't come?" Matthew asked as they exited the building and made their way to the car.

"He's been going to school again. He wanted to come, but he needs to go to school and get an education." Arthur said, "He'll see you when he comes home."

Matthew nodded and let himself be helped out of his wheelchair and into the car. He was pleasantly surprised to find an old friend waiting for him.

"Kumajiro!" he said, picking up the stuffed toy and giving it a hug, "Wow, I haven't seen him in ages!"

Francis chuckled, "We figured you would enjoy seeing 'im again. After all, as a child you were inseparable from 'im."

Matthew squeezed the bear again, "Merci Papa." he said, smiling.

Arthur and Francis smiled at each other. Things were finally turning around for them.

Alfred groaned as he swallowed another large bite of his greasy burger. It was his third one today, and he was starting to feel sick. Maybe throwing up after each one was a better idea. Sure it made his throat hurt, but maybe it was better than the sick, bloated feeling he got from over-eating.

Going back to his old school felt strange. He saw his old friends and they saw him, and they even tried to get him to hang out with them, but it was like a glass wall had formed around Alfred. He could see everything that was going on around him, but through a veil of grey film. It was like his experiences in the last few months had opened his eyes to the knowledge that the world wasn't such a nice place after all. How many of the students here knew what he knew? How many went home to families that hurt them? How many had people torture them and call them names for no reason? How many knew what the world was really like?

Alfred shook away his thoughts and swallowed the last of his burger. It stuck in his throat for a minute and he almost gagged, but it went down and Alfred sighed in relief. Now that that was over, he could get on with the rest of his lunch hour. He tossed away his garbage and decided to wander the halls. He passed a few people who recognized him and tried to get him to talk, but Alfred wasn't the same Alfred that they had known, so most had given up on him and moved on to other things than a broken teenager they had sort of known. Alfred didn't mind too much, it was kind of nice to just be alone with his thoughts. It was strange though, he used to be such a social butterfly before everything happened.

"It's all in the past now. Nothing's going to change it now." Alfred said quietly to himself. He continued walking until he was in the art wing of the school.

He'd never really been down this way much, it was more of his brother's thing. He paid no mind to his surroundings other than to quickly glance at the bulletin board. Something caught his eye and he stopped. A flyer calling for auditions for a school play. Alfred remembered how much he'd enjoyed pretending to be another person for Matthew, making him laugh and smile, and how easy it had been to step out of his persona and into another.

"Couldn't hurt." Alfred said to himself, reaching out and taking one of the flyers. It was for a play called The Twelfth Night. He'd heard of it, but he didn't know any of the details.

"Are you interested in acting?" a quiet voice asked.

Alfred whipped his head around. At first he didn't see anyone, but then he spotted a small asian boy standing a few feet from him. He sort of recognized him, but couldn't recall his name, or if he'd ever spoken to him.

Realizing he'd been asked a question, he perked up, "Oh, well, I was just thinking about it. I'm not sure if I'll like it or not." he said.

The young boy nodded, "Hai, I understand." he said, then walked away, leaving Alfred to ponder.

Alfred watched the tiny boy go, then looked down at the flyer in his hands. Acting, huh? Well, it could be interesting. Alfred folded the flyer and stuffed it into his back pocket. Now to find a place where he could throw up in peace.

**Author Commentary;** Yeah this was late. Oh well. Hope you liked it. BTW, the small asian was Kiku. He'll pop up later as well.


	26. Audition

**Author Commentary;** Hi again. I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that I have a job now. The bad news is that I won't have as much time to write. I know it's annoying, but I hope that everyone understands. Also, to anyone who has been following the I am Matthewian Project on Youtube and DeviantArt, I'm now a member. I've already done some artwork on DA under the name HitomiMaaka, so if you're interested, go check it out. Now, enough with my rambling, on with the story!

**Title;** Audition

**Characters;** England, France, America, Canada

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Yaoi, depression, bulimia

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Alfred stared at the slightly crumpled flyer in his hand. He'd done a little research about the play and found out that it was a Shakespearian romantic comedy centred around a pair of twins and their mishaps. It intrigued him. Could he be part of it? Did he want to be part of it?

A knock at the door brought Alfred from his thoughts.

"Alfred?" Arthur called through the door, "Can I come in?"

"Go ahead." Alfred called, sitting up.

Arthur opened the door and walked in. He strode over to the bed and sat down next to his son, "So how have you been feeling?" Arthur asked, trying not to sound nervous. He really wasn't good at the whole 'emotions' thing.

"Good, good." Alfred said, "Been feeling better every day."

"That's good." Arthur said. He then noticed the crumpled flyer in Alfred's hand, "Oh, ae you trying out for that play?" he asked.

Alfred shrugged, "I'm not sure. I kind of want to, but I'm not sure if it's a good idea right now."

Arthur patted Alfred's shoulder, "I think it's a wonderful idea. Maybe finding something to focus on will take your mind off things." he said.

"I'm not sure I want to focus on other things right now. Mattie needs me." Alfred said.

Arthur sighed, "I agree that Matthew needs you, you are his older brother, but **you** also need you. You can't focus only on your brother, you need to make your own mark on the world. Furthermore, Matthew won't be alone if you do some extra-curricular activities, he does have your Papa and I you know."

Alfred sighed, "I suppose. I'm just not sure if I'll be able to focus on anything else."

Arthur smiled, "Well, you won't know until you try." he said.

Alfred smiled a little, "Guess so."

"That's a good lad. Now, why don't you come down to dinner? Papa's made parmesan chicken." Arthur said, smiling.

"Sounds good." Alfred said, standing and making his way down to the kitchen, Arthur right behind him.

Matthew was already sitting down at the table when they walked in, looking rather meek, still in his bandages and not quite filled out enough to be healthy at this point.

"Hey Mattie, how have you been?" Alfred said, sitting down next to his smaller brother.

"Okay. I'm still a little soar though." Matthew said, smiling up at his brother, "I'm getting better though."

"That's good." Arthur said, sitting opposite to the boys, "You'll be just fine in no time at all."

"Oui, soon you will be able to return to school." Francis said, coming out of the kitchen, "Maybe some normalcy will return to our lives, hm?"

"That'd be nice." Matthew said, smiling lightly.

Alfred smiled; his brother was getting better, good. After what had happened to him, he deserved it. He reached over and took Matthew's hand in his own, giving it a squeeze. Matthew looked over and smiled at him, making him feel warm on the inside.

Later that evening, Alfred sat down with Matthew, who was reading on his bed.

"Hey Mattie," Alfred asked, "I'm thinking of trying out for the school play."

"That's great Al. You'd be good at acting." Matthew said, leaning into his brother's side.

"You think so?" Alfred asked, wrapping his arms around Matthew.

"I'd go see it." Matthew said, snuggling into Alfred, "I'd see anything you'd be in."

Alfred smiled, "Thanks Matt." he said kissing Matthew's forehead.

The next day, Alfred stayed late after school, heading to the auditorium. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to do this, but it couldn't hurt to try. Who knows, maybe he would like it.

The theatre teacher looked up as he walked in, "Oh hello Alfred, what brings you here?" she asked.

"I'm, um, here to audition." Alfred said, not sure what he was doing.

"Okay then, did you have a particular role in mind?" she asked.

"Not really." Alfred said. Shoot, should he have picked a part?

The teacher chuckled, "That's fine Alfred. Do you know any lines from the play?"

"Er, no. I'm just here sorta on a whim." Alfred explained.

"That's fine Alfred." she said, "Why don't you take this script and show us what you've got?"

Alfred took the offered script and made his way to the stage. He flipped through and picked a part of the script. He took a deep breath and decided that it was now or never.

"By your patience no!" he started, " The malignancy of my fate might distemper yours. I crave your leave that I may bear my evils alone." he paused for effect, "My name is Sebastian. My father was Sebastian of Massaline whom you have heard of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both born in an hour." at this point, he thought of his brother, and what had happened to them, "If the heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended! But you, sir, took me from the sea. My sister drowned." he finished, his tone sombre and sad.

The auditorium was quiet for a moment. Alfred expected the worst, but the teacher began applauding, as well as some other students who had been hiding out at the back of the auditorium.

"My goodness Alfred! If I had known that you were this talented, I would have hunted you down ages ago!" the teacher cheered, "Welcome to the play!"

Alfred felt his chest swell. They liked him, they thought he was good. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

The teacher put her arm around his shoulders, "Now, we already have a Sebastian, but we are looking for an Antonio. What do you think?"

"That's fine with me." Alfred said, "I didn't think I'd be that good."

The teacher laughed, "Honey, if that was your first performance, the performance you put on after some practice will be spectacular."

The words of the teacher replayed over and over in Alfred's head, even as he shoved his finger down his throat to get rid of his daily fast food. He retched and leaned over the toilet, closing his eyes as his stomach heaved and the greasy food rushed back up his esophagus. He coughed and spat out whatever residue was in his mouth.

"Gross." he said to himself. He stood and exited the stall, going to go wash his hands before finding something to soothe his throat.

"Alfred-san?"

Alfred spin around. Had some one seen him? Shit! His eyes caught sight of the small Asian boy he spoke to the day he picked up the flyer. Shit shit shit. What was he supposed to say?

"Uh, j-just a little nervous from the audition is all. Must have been something I ate." Alfred said, laughing nervously.

"Alfred-san, were you throwing up on purpose?" he asked, eyes wide.

Shiiiiiiiiit, "N-no!" Alfred said, too quickly, too loud, "I-I mean, why would I do that?" more forced laughter.

The boy didn't look convinced, Alfred was screwed now, "L-look, don't tell anyone what you saw or heard, okay?"

Alfred quickly rinsed his hands and went to walked past the young boy and never see him again, but a quiet comment, almost a whisper, from the smaller boy stopped him.

"I'll keep your secret if you keep mine."

Alfred turned and regarded the smaller, "Okay. What's your secret?"

The smaller boy looked around nervously. Actually, now that Alfred looked at him, he saw the other wasn't just tiny, he was skinny as well. Really really skinny. Was it even healthy to be that skinny? He looked back at Alfred, an odd nervousness showing in his eyes. He took a deep breath and lifted his shirt a little bit.

Alfred gasped; the boy was nothing but skin and bone. His ribs poked out from under near translucent skin. Blue veins crawled across the expanse of his stomach and chest. His stomach itself was nearly non-existent.

"I have anorexia." the boys said, his voice shaky, then he repeated, "I'll keep your secret if you keep mine."

**Author Commentary;** You know, technically, I gave you what you wanted. Alfred got found out, just not the way you figured it would happen. I'm just evil aren't I ?


	27. Friend

**Author Commentary;** So, show of hands; who hates me now?

**Title;** Friend

**Characters;** America, Japan, Canada, England, France

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Mild yaoi, unhealthy attitudes towards food, depression

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia

"So," Alfred started, "Kiku, was it?" he asked.

"Hai, that is my name." Kiku said, sipping his tea.

"Right, right." Alfred said, "So . . . You're anorexic."

"Correct Alfred-san. And you are bulimic?" Kiku asked.

Alfred shrugged, "I guess so. I never really thought of it that way, but I guess that's the closest thing to what I've been doing." he said.

Kiku nodded, sipping his tea calmly. An awkward silence floated around them. Alfred tapped his fingers against the table top, looking around at the near deserted asian style café they were sitting in. What to do now? They were both privy to the other secret now, they couldn't just ignore the other knowing what was going on.

"So, Kiku," Alfred started, shifting in his seat, "Out of curiosity, why are you anorexic? You don't have to answer, I'm just curious."

Kiku paused for a moment and set down his teacup, "I cannot eat." he said quietly, "If I eat, then I am being ungrateful."

"How so?" Alfred asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kiku took a deep breath, "My family is very poor. My older brother works hard to feed all of us, even though we aren't related by blood. He took us in when we had no where else to go. He knew that I had picky tastes when it came to food, so he always worked his hardest to make sure I had what I wanted." Kiku let out a shaky, nervous laugh, "And what did I do to thank him? I simply ate through his hard earned money with my picky tastes." he smiled sadly at Alfred, "So you see, my not eating is me being grateful to my brother. If I don't eat, I let him use some of the money he earned for himself, so he can have nice things."

Alfred nodded; it sort of made sense, and it wasn't like he could argue with Kiku when he had a similar problem.

"And what about you Alfred-san? Why are you bulimic?" Kiku asked, picking up his teacup again.

Alfred leaned back in his chair, "Well, it's kind of hard to explain." he said, swirling his coffee in his cup, "See, I've got a little brother. And since we were small, I've had to protect him." Alfred narrowed his eyes at his reflection in the black depths of the coffee, "But a little while ago, I realized what a shitty job of that I've been doing. So I needed to punish myself, and the only way I can do that is by eating fast food. The reason I throw it up is because I can't get unhealthy. I feel so guilty for eating fast food that I have no choice but to throw up and get rid of it all. But then I'm not fulfilling my promise to punish myself, so I have to eat more fast food." Alfred laughed a little, "It's a horrible cycle, but I really don't have any other options."

Kiku nodded, "I understand Alfred-san." he said.

Another silenced passed over the two, this time less awkward, as each boy was wrapped in their own thoughts and problems. They quietly sipped their drinks and rolled their thoughts around in their heads. After a while, Alfred spoke up.

"So, Kiku, what are we going to do now? Now that we know each other's secrets, we can't really just go back to ignoring each other's existence." Alfred said.

Kiku thought for a long moment, "I suppose we could become . . . friends?" he suggested.

Alfred thought about it for a moment, then he smiled, "Yeah, I guess we could be friends." he said. He reached out his hand, "Nice to meet you Kiku." he said warmly.

Kiku blinked at the hand extended to him for a moment before reaching his own hand across the table to take it. Alfred's large warm hand encompassed Kiku's small hand almost entirely. In that moment Kiku decided he really liked the feeling. He smiled slightly up at Alfred.

"Nice to meet you Alfred-kun. Watashi no sewa o shite kudasai. _[Please take care of me.]_" he said, heat rushing to his face a little.

It was the beginnings of a wonderful, horrible, friendship.

**Author Commentary;** So more pairings are popping up, oh well. Just don't think I'll be sticking with one pair, you know how teens are, they're in love with someone different every other week. If you want me to give you the final pairs for the story, you're going to have to ask really nicely and review me lots and lots. Eehee!

Bt the way, before I forget, **_Happy Halloween!_**


	28. Blooming

**Author Commentary;** So, the last chapter was basically just something to explain why both Alfred and Kiku had the eating disorders they have and establish a friendship sort of thing. As someone said before, not every chapter has to be exciting, so I guess you're just going to have to live with some boring stuff sometimes. Oh well, whatever works.

**Note;** I forgot about Kiku's accent, so I'm going to start adding it. I think it'll mostly just be his 'L's to 'R's, or something like that.

**Title;** Blooming

**Characters;** America, Canada, Japan, England, France

**Pairs;** FrUK, blossoming America/Japan

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** eating disorders, mild shonen-ai, angst

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

For the next few weeks, Alfred and Kiku grew close to one another. Alfred soon discovered that Kiku was actually a very fun person to be around, and Kiku found the same about Alfred. They were both very close to their families, but had both suffered in the past, enabling them to connect on a deeper level. As it turned out, Kiku was on the crew for the play, allowing them to spend a lot of time together and not making it look strange.

"Hey Dad! I'm home!" Alfred called, "And I brought a friend over!"

"Just a moment!" Arthur called from the kitchen (from the lack of fire alarms blaring, Alfred assumed his taste buds were safe). A moment later, Arthur appeared in the hall, hands wet from washing dishes, "Hello there, I'm Alfred's father. And you are . . . ?"

"Kiku Honda." Kiku said, bowing slightly, "I am very preased to meet you."

Arthur chuckled, "My, so polite." he said, "Well, come in then. No sense standing in the door way."

"Thank you sir." Kiku said, following Alfred into the house.

After a quick tour of the house, and an introduction to Matthew, who was still recovering at home for now, the two found themselves in Alfred's bedroom.

"You father seems nice Alfred-san. Where is your mother?" Kiku asked.

"Oh, that's right I haven't told you yet." Alfred said, pulling a fast food burger out of his jacket pocket, "I don't have a mother."

"Oh?" Kiku said, "Is you father a singre parent?"

"No, he's married." Alfred said, unwrapping the burger and taking a bite, "He's just not married to a woman."

Kiku raised a brow, then realized what Alfred was saying, "So you have two fathers?" he questioned, "I did not know that."

Alfred shrugged, swallowing a bite of burger, "It's fine so long as you don't have an issue with gays." he said.

Kiku shook his head, "No no, I have no probrem at arr Alfred." he said, "I was just not aware that you rived in a same gender marriage famiry."

Alfred shrugged, "Beats living with that woman and _him_." he said, finishing the burger.

Kiku tilted his head to side question. Alfred clarified, "Mine and Mattie's biological parents." he shuddered at the freshly renewed memories, "They weren't very nice people."

Kiku nodded, but didn't press Alfred for details, as it seemed to be an area of turmoil for him. Kiku didn't want to upset his friend so early in the relationship. He liked Alfred very much and wanted to stay on good terms with him. A quiet passed over the two and Kiku took the opportunity to study Alfred's features.

Alfred was taller than average. Just by a little, but enough to be noticeable. His hair was a dark shade of blond, like strands of fine gold. His eyes were clear blue, like the sky after a heavy rain. He had high cheekbones, but his face had yet to lose the roundness of childhood, giving him a young, youthful look. His frame was lanky, but muscled. He was going to be big and strong when he was older. And he had such nice, big, warm hands. Kiku remembered the feel of them when they had wrapped around his own slender hand. They had been much warmer than his own, and had nearly covered his completely. Kiku wished they would do it again.

"Hey Kiku?" Alfred asked suddenly, breaking Kiku from his train or thought, "Do you think we're odd?"

Kiku shook away the last of his thoughts, "How do you mean, Alfred-san?"

"What we're doing." Alfred said, "Is it odd? I know we both have our reasons, but does doing these things make us strange?"

Kiku thought for a moment, wondering if he should say anything, "I have no idea. Then again, we have no idea how many other students have the same issues or do the things we do."

Alfred nodded, "I guess so." then he chuckled, "I bet most of the people in our school with eating disorders are girls though."

"That is most rikery Alfred-san." Kiku said, "Onry about ten percent of peopre with eating disorders are mare."

"You're so smart." Alfred said, "I wish I was that smart."

Kiku flushed, "I rearry am not that smart. I have probrems with my Engrish many times." he went darker, "Rike right there. I mix up words."

Alfred chuckled, "Yeah, but that's 'cause English isn't your first language right?" he said. He wrapped and arm around Kiku's thin shoulders, "And besides, it's cute."

Kiku blushed bright red, "I-I . . .それは実際にそれとはアルフレッドサンを全く関係ない。 私は全然かわいくない。_[That really has nothing to do with it Alfred-san. I'm not cute.]_"

"What?" Alfred asked, not understanding what Kiku was saying.

"Prease ret go." Kiku squeaked. Alfred raised an eyebrow, but as he was asked, unwinding his arm from around the smallers' shoulder.

"Thank you." he said, face red and his dark eyes not meeting Alfred's.

"Hey, no problem." Alfred said, smiling, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go punish myself."

As the friendship progressed, the two of them created a system of protecting the other's secret. Kiku would make excuses for Alfred's sudden absences and why his throat hurt him sometimes, and Alfred would make up stories of how Kiku was naturally skinny, or how he was sick often and couldn't hold down food, and how he had seen Kiku eat. They lied and cheated their way through the day. They didn't mind though, they just tied the bond between them tighter and kept walking through their day like they were normal teens, even though they were anything but.

"Hey Kiku." Alfred asked one day, "What do you think of the world?"

Kiku was quiet for a long moment, "I think there is good and bad in the world, and it may or may not be baranced." he said finally.

"Do you think there's more bad or more good, if it is unbalanced?" Alfred asked.

"Bad it seems so far." Kiku said, "But we are young. The future wirr hold many things for us when we get there."

"Hm." Alfred hummed, "Guess you have a point."

"Thank you Alfred-san." Kiku said.

There was a pause, "Hey Kiku." Alfred asked, "What's that thing you add to the end of my name all the time?"

"Hm? You mean 'san'? It is a suffix. In Japanese, we use suffixes to distinguish different forms of respect and intimacy. 'San' can compared to 'mister' or 'misses'." Kiku explained.

Alfred thought about it for a moment, "So, you've been calling me 'Mr Alfred' this entire time?"

"Hai, Alfred-san."

" . . . Dude, that is so weird." Alfred said, "Don't you have anything else you can use?"

Kiku thought for a minute, "I suppose 'san' is a rittre formar for friends. I could use 'kun' if you rike. It's more intimate than 'san', but it's stirr respectfur." 

"Sure." Alfred said, "Whatever works for you."

"Thank you Alfred-kun." Kiku said, heart fluttering a little, though he had no idea why.

The next day, while Kiku stood guard by the door, Alfred shoved his finger down his throat. When he was done, he dusted off his pants, flushed the toilet, then walked over to the sink to wash his hands and rinse his mouth. While scrubbing his hands, he noticed that he had little scratches on his knuckle.

"It's from using that finger to throw up each time Alfred-kun." Kiku pointed out to him while they walked to the theatre, "It's from your teeth."

"Oh, didn't know that." Alfred said, "Guess I'm going to have to live with it."

"It would appear so Alfred-kun." Kiku said.

Still, Alfred ended up staring at the scratches a lot. His hands already had a few scars here and there, but for some reasons, these ones looked different to him. Maybe because they were self inflicted. A knock at Alfred's door brought him out of his musings.

"Al?" came Matthew's voice, "You still up?"

"Yeah, c'mon in." Alfred said from his laying down position on his bed.

Matthew opened the door and padded over to the bed to sit down, "The doctors said that I can go back to school next week. I'm a little nervous."

Alfred chuckled, "Aw, poor thing." he said, wrapping one hand around his little brother's waist.

Matthew hummed and flopped down next to Alfred on the bed, "Are you still going to protect me?" he asked quietly.

Alfred's answered immediately, "You know I will." he said, kissing his forehead, "I always do."

Matthew smiled and wrapped his arms around Alfred's torso, "Yeah, guess you're right. I'm so silly."

Alfred hugged him tighter, "Not really. Just remember that I'll always put you first okay?"

Alfred didn't mention his thoughts, how he hadn't protected Matthew from their mother. How he hadn't protected Matthew from those girls.

"_I guess it's okay. So long as I keep punishing myself."_ Alfred thought, nuzzling his little brother closer to him.

**Author Commentary;** Not the best chapter I've ever done, but I guess it'll have to do. Next chapter will be fun though. Mwahahaha. (cough) Er, right. Anyway, to anyone who wanted to know the final pairs, review me and I'll send you a list. Some people don't want to know, so I don't want to spoil it for them. Hope you liked it.


	29. Collapse

**Author Commentary;** So this chapter might not be very well done, but I'm not in the mood to wrestle with it. Hope you enjoy it.

**Title;** Collapse

**Characters;** Canada, America, Japan, France, England

**Pairs;** Japan→America, FrUK

**Rating; **T

**Warnings;** shonen-ai, eating disorders, angst

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Alfred held tightly to Matthew's hand on the way to school, stroking it with his thumb absent mindedly. Matthew seemed happy to be returning to school, and Alfred was glad for that; one less thing that he needed to worry about.

"So when is the play your in going to happen?" Matthew asked.

"Oui, your Dad and I would really love to know when we can expect to see you on stage." Francis said from the drivers seat.

Alfred shrugged, "It's supposed to be sometime in the next two weeks, but there are still so many people who are still on script that the teacher is worried that she might have to bump the play down another week."

"That doesn't sound too good." Matthew said, laughing a little, "Are you still on script too?"

"No, not really. Antonio doesn't have too many lines in comparison to some of the others." Alfred said, "I bet I could probably do most of the lines by memory by now."

"Can you do them right now?" Matthew asked.

Alfred chuckled, "And ruin the surprise? Not a chance."

Francis and Matthew laughed, "Oh, cher, you are so cute." Francis said as he pulled into the school's parking lot, "You two 'ave fun at school, okay?"

"Thanks Papa." Matthew said, hopping out, closely followed by Alfred, "See you after school."

"Bye Papa." Alfred said, waving as Francis pulled away.

They walked into the school, Alfred chatting to keep Matthew entertained. A few people noticed that Matthew had returned and said hi, but for the most part they went on their way undisturbed. They stayed nearly glued at the hip as they sat through the first few parts of school. When break rolled around, it became another story altogether.

"Are we going to go find a place to sit?" Matthew asked.

As Alfred was about to answer, he caught sight of Kiku. He hesitated a moment, before hugging Matthew close, "Sorry Mattie, but I promised a friend. I'll see you in class, okay?"

Matthew looked a little crestfallen, but put on a smiling face anyway, "Oh, okay. I'll see you later then."

Alfred felt really guilty, but he had promised Kiku, and he never went back on his promises. He'd have to eat an extra burger for leaving Matthew though. He pressed a quick kiss to Mattie's forehead before turning and running over to Kiku, leaving Matthew standing there, unsure of what to do.

"Herro Alfred-kun. Are you sure it is okay to reave your brother on his own?" Kiku asked as Alfred reached him.

"He'll be okay. And besides, if I brought him along, I wouldn't be able to 'punish' myself, right?" Alfred said, even though he did want to stay with his baby brother.

"I suppose so Alfred-kun." Kiku said, secretly glad that Matthew wasn't coming with them. The more time he had alone with the American, the better.

As the weeks went on, it became evident that Matthew was getting pushed to the side. Alfred felt horribly guilty for doing that to him, so he ate more burgers than usual. Kiku was there with him every step of the way, slowly getting thinner and wasting away.

"Wow, you can feel all of your ribs now Kiku." Alfred said as they relaxed in Alfred's room one evening while his family was out.

"I think my nii-chan is getting suspicious." Kiku said, enjoying the feeling of Alfred's hands on his side.

"Maybe you should eat a little bit. You know, so you don't die." Alfred suggested, only half joking.

Kiku shrugged and said nothing. Alfred didn't move his hand from his ribs, rubbing his thumb across one of the protruding bones. Their eyes met and a 'moment' seemed to pass between them. The kind of moment that doesn't need words, but both parties know exactly what's going on. Hesitating only a moment, Alfred leaned in and pressed his lips against Kiku's. Kiku responded eagerly, threading his fingers in the soft blond locks.

They kissed for a long moment, lips moving against lips. Just as Alfred's tongue peeked out to lick along Kiku's lips, the front door slammed, signalling the return of Alfred's family. Kiku jerked away, as did Alfred, both of them blushing bright red.

Alfred averted his eyes, "Um, that was . . ."

"I should be heading home now." Kiku said, voice monotone.

Alfred blinked, "Oh, are you sure?" he asked. Had he taken thing to far?

"Hai. Nii-san will be wondering where I am." Kiku said, sitting up. He wobbled a little, but he found the strength to stand and walk to the door, "It was nice speaking to you Alfred-kun."

Alfred, too shell-shocked to say or do anything, just sat there and watched Kiku leave. It wasn't until a few moments later that Alfred registered what had just happened. Dam damn damn, had he really just kissed Kiku? He brought his hand up and traced his lips with his fingers.

"Alfred? Are you okay?" Matthew called through the door, snapping Alfred out of his thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine." Alfred called.

Matthew opened the door and walked in, "Are you sure? I just saw Kiku leave in a big hurry. Did you two fight?"

Alfred laughed a little, "No, we didn't fight." he motioned for Matthew to come in, "We just . . . talked."

Matthew raised a brow, "Are you sure?" he asked.

Alfred hugged his little brother, "I'm sure Mattie. It's nothing you need to be concerned about, okay?"

Matthew sighed a little sadly, "Okay."

After that, Alfred and Kiku went back to being friends. Neither mentioned the kiss, or what it might have meant. Kiku continued to starve himself, and Alfred continued to stuff himself. After a while, people started to notice.

"Alfred, mon cher, you are looking a little unwell. Are you all right?" Francis asked one day while Alfred helped wash dishes at the café.

"I'm fine Papa, no need to worry." Alfred insisted.

"Alfred, you look ghastly. Are you feeling sick?" Arthur inquired when the boys came home from school one day.

"Not really. I'm feeling just peachy." Alfred lied, smiling.

"Al, you aren't looking too good. Are you going to be okay?" Matthew asked worriedly.

"Don't worry about me Mattie. I'll be just fine." Alfred said, kissing Matthew's forehead and trying not to think about his upset stomach and his sore throat.

Alfred grunted as the last of the burger he ingested earlier forced itself up and out. His head span and his throat burned, but he was getting better at punishing himself. He now had a system where no one would catch on to what he was doing (aside from Kiku of course).

"Alfred-kun? Are you finished? We have to get to the theatre soon or the teacher wirr be angry." Kiku called through the stall door.

"Yeah, just a sec." Alfred said, coughing a little and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He stood and exited the stall, heading for the sink to wash his hands and rinse his mouth, "You got the costumes ready for the show?"

Kiku nodded, "Hai, I just need to do some hemming. How is your script memorization?"

"Good, I'm completely off script now." Alfred said, grinning.

Kiku smiled a little too, "That is good to here. I rook forward to seeing you perform."

"Aw, thanks Kiku." Alfred said, slinging an arm around Kiku's thin, boney shoulders, "Wow Kiku, maybe you should eat something. You're seriously wasting away here."

"I wirr be fine Alfred-kun." Kiku said with practised ease.

Alfred looked a little worried, but he pushed it aside. He really shouldn't preach to Kiku about his 'issue', seeing as he was in a similar boat. The continued down the halls of the school, Alfred's arm around Kiku's shoulders, and arrived shortly at the theatre room.

"Alfred! Kiku!" the teacher called, waving them in, "Fantastic you guys are here. We're going to go through an entire rehearsal, off book and in any costume that's finished." she bounced around excitedly, "We have to work hard! Our opening performance is in four days!"

The entire cast and crew ran to their places and shuffled into their almost completed costumes. Alfred's costume was pretty simple, so his had been done for a while, and he had his character down pat by now. It was clear that he was going to be a rising star in the theatre area. Likewise, the costumes sewn and designed by Kiku were clearly the best out of the others. Many people figured that it was no wonder that these two had become so close, them being the two most talented and skilled out of them all.

Four days later, it was their opening night. Alfred's family had purchased tickets weeks in advance, anything to support their son. Kiku's family was also there, so he told Alfred through his wheezing breath (the boy was so thin that he was almost a ghost). Alfred was giddy and Kiku was fidgeting over the last few touches on the costumes.

"I can't believe that we're here already. I'm so excited." Alfred said, peeking out at the audience. He saw his parents and Matthew sitting in the third row. A few seats away was a large group of Asians that was probably Kiku's family.

"Alfred-kun, prease sit stirr, I have to finish hemming this." Kiku said, kneeling down and fixing the edge of Alfred's pant leg, "Antonio cannot go on stage with a half-finished costume."

"Haha, you should be more worried about the large characters costumes. Antonio isn't as important as the others." Alfred said.

"Nonsense Alfred-kun, Antonio is a very important part." Kiku said, smiling politely up at Alfred.

Alfred smiled as well. Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned down and placed a kiss to Kiku's soft lips. They stayed that way for a moment before the call went out for everyone to take their places. They both jumped apart and blushed furiously. Alfred stammered out an apology and ran to take his place.

The rest of the play went off without a hitch or bump. The performance was spectacular and Alfred delivered his lines with such convincing passion that he got a standing ovation. When everything was over and done with, the cast and crew members and their families all congregated backstage to doll out congratulations.

"You were amazing Alfred! I nearly thought I was watching Antonio himself!" Arthur praised.

"Truly amazing mon cher." Francis said, smiling.

"Good job Alfred." Matthew said.

Alfred flushed under all the praise, but he threw an arm around Matthew's shoulders and smiled, "Really, I wasn't that great. I breezed through it so well I probably made a million mistakes."

Everyone laughed and continued to praise him and congratulate him for his wonderful performance. Alfred took it all with a smile, but continued to be his own worst critic.

"And the costumes! They're all so wonderful." Arthur said, admiring the work.

"Oh, you really should be talking to Kiku for that. He's the man behind all the-"

At that moment, a dull thud rang through the room. For a moment, things were silent, then a few shouts rang out among the commotion.

"Kiku? Kiku, are you okay aru? Kiku!" called a distressed voice.

A small ball of dread settled in Alfred's stomach. In an instant, he crossed the room and found his friend, barely more than a wisp, lying on the floor motionless. His shirt had ridden up and exposed his ribs and stomach. His bones jutted out from his skin, which was nearly translucent, and his stomach was barely even there.

"Dear god what have we done?" Alfred said to himself.

**Author Commentary;** Well, this is really late. I know I said I wasn't going to wrestle with it, but I ended up rewriting this three times. Anyway, hope you liked it.


	30. Confession

**Author Commentary;** So, last chapter ended horribly (for you anyway, I quite enjoyed it), but this one will probably be better. But don't hold your breath or anything.

**Title;** Confession

**Characters;** America, Japan, China, other Asians, England, France, Canada

**Pairs;** AmericaxJapan (just a little), FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Teen angst, eating disorders, shounen-ai

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Alfred was lying on one of those really uncomfortable chairs that physcologist's had in their offices for patients to sit on. He shifted around uncomfortably, trying to find a position on the chair that wasn't lumpy or pinchy.

"So, Alfred was it?" the doctor said around his thick moustache, "Do you know why you are here?"

Alfred knew very well why he was here.

After Kiku had been taken away to the hospital, Alfred couldn't get the image of him lying like that on the floor, having wasted away to nearly nothing.

"Alfred? Are you okay?" Matthew asked worriedly, "You look pale."

"I'll be okay." Alfred said, not looking at his brother.

"Leave him be Matthew. He just watched his friend faint. He's probably quite upset." Arthur said, shooting Alfred a sympathetic glance.

"It will be all right mon cher. I am sure Kiku will be just fine." Francis said, trying to comfort his obviously troubled son.

"Yeah." Alfred said distractedly, still off in his own thoughts.

The next few days, Alfred was a wreck. Desperate to retain some sort of normalcy, he stuffed himself with burgers and threw up more than usual. It felt gross and sick, but he couldn't stop. He hated himself more than usual and found he could only express it with his constant cycle of eating and purging.

"Alfred? Are you okay?" Matthew called through the bathroom door.

"F-fine Mattie. I probably just ate something bad." Alfred said weakly through the door.

"Should I go get Dad?" Matthew asked worriedly.

Alfred grunted and dry heaved for a moment or to, "N-no. I'll be okay in a minute."

"Are you sure? He's just downstairs. I could-"

"Matthew! It's fine okay?" Alfred snapped, his patients worn thin, "Just leave me alone for a while, okay?"

Matthew said nothing, but Alfred heard his feet pattering down the hall. He leaned his forehead against the cool porcelain and groaned.

Three days later, Alfred got a phone call from the hospital. Apparently, Kiku was asking to see him. Alfred agreed right away, stopping only to pick up some flowers for Kiku.

When he got to the hospital, he was greeted by seven Asian faces, one of whom he recognized as the one who was holding Kiku when he collapsed.

"Hello aru." he said, his voice very strained, like he was stressed and tired, "I'm Kiku's older brother, Yao Wang aru."

Alfred blinked; so this was Kiku's older brother? He didn't even look old enough to be out of high school, let alone the sole caretaker of a bunch of teenagers. He was, for lack of a better term, beautiful. Inky black hair like silk tied into a ponytail and tossed over one shoulder carelessly, smooth, pale skin with that tannish tone that Asians seemed to have, and a lithe, but slightly muscled frame. Alfred recognized his face from somewhere, but he couldn't place where.

Alfred realized he had yet to respond, "Hi, um, I'm Alfred Kirkland-Bonnefoy. I'm Kiku's friend."

Yao nodded, "I know aru. Kiku told us about you aru."

Alfred flushed a little, "He told me about you too, a little."

An awkward silence hung in the air. Alfred scratched his neck a little, "So, do they know why Kiku collapsed?" he asked, half dreading the answer.

Yao sighed and flopped down into one of the waiting room chairs, "Malnutrition aru. But they cannot find out why he is malnourished aru. There is nothing wrong with his internal system, but he is lying there in that hospital bed for some reason aru."

Alfred shuffled his feet uncomfortably. So they didn't know that Kiku was anorexic? Was that a good thing? Dammit, he was so confused, "Um, I brought him some flowers." Alfred offered, holding up the flowers.

Yao looked up and smiled a little, "谢谢。 _[Thank you.]_ That is very kind of you aru. Hong, why don't you take him to see Kiku aru?"

A bushy browed boy who looked to be about Matthew's age stood forward and nodded to Alfred. Alfred smiled at him, but the boy, Hong, didn't change his expression, which was as close to neutral as one could be. Alfred sighed and followed him down the halls, away from the broken family in the waiting room. He silently followed Hong to a small room with a faded number on it's door. Alfred swallowed thickly and pushed open the door, bracing himself for what he was about to see.

It was like seeing Matthew lying bloodied and beaten all over again. Kiku was lying on his back, breathing laboured under the oxygen mask on his face. He was little more than a wisp of a fragile bone frame with white skin stretched gently over it. His silky black hair was lank and thin. The only thing that didn't seem to resemble a corpse were his eyes, and even they were hollow and dull.

Alfred smiled as best he could and approached Kiku's bedside, "Hey buddy, how ya feeling?" he asked.

Kiku blinked at him for a moment before answering in a raspy, paper thin voice, "I am fine Alfred-kun. Do not worry yourself about me."

Alfred set the flowers down on the bedside table, "Kiku, dude, you're in the hospital, how can I not worry about you?"

Kiku's mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile, "Ah, my aporogies Alfred-kun."

"Don't apologize either." Alfred said, taking Kiku's cold, frail hand in his own, "I'm the one who should be sorry."

Kiku raised an eyebrow, but Alfred continued, "I should have put a stop to this. All of it. This isn't healthy. We aren't healthy. If we continue on like this we're both going to die. We have to stop." tears trailed down Alfred's cheeks, "I have to tell them Kiku."

A look of horror passed over Kiku's face, "Y-you said you would not! We made a promise! 秘密のための秘密! 言うことができない! 私達は取り引きを有した! ! 私は頼む! _[A secret for a secret! You can't tell! We had a deal! Please! I beg you!]_"

Alfred shook his head; he didn't understand what Kiku was saying, but he had an idea, "Kiku, I have to. For both our sakes."

With that, Alfred let go of Kiku's hand, which clenched and tried to hold on to him, but was too weak to get a good grip. Alfred fixed the flowers so they were standing in a vase left by the hospital staff and walked out. He walked past Hong who was waiting for him and ran down the hall. He ducked into the bathroom and dove for a stall. He barely had time to get down on his knees before he heaved and threw up.

"Oh god, what have we done? What have we done? Oh god oh god." Alfred gasped as he heaved.

Alfred retched for a few more minutes before standing and heading for the sink to wash his hands and rinse his mouth. As he washed his hands, he noticed how scarred his knuckle was. Tiny white scars from shoving his finger down his throat. He couldn't even imagine what his throat must look like on the inside. He just hoped that it wasn't too late, for both himself and Kiku.

Alfred walked out of the bathroom and went back to the waiting room. Yao was still sitting there, his head in his hands, looking like the entire world was on his shoulders. Alfred walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Wang? I have something to tell you." he said, voice grave and sombre.

Yao looked up at him. Alfred's heart broke at the look in his eyes. He looked like his heart was crumbling and he was desperately trying to keep it together. He knew that what Alfred had to say was going to hurt, but he was desperately hoping that it wasn't.

Alfred took a deep breath and closed his eyes, unable to look into those amber depths, "Kiku is anorexic. He's on that bed because he hasn't been eating."

Yao's eye widened in horror; there was a collective gasp from the rest of the family. Yao sprang up and bolted down the hall to Kiku's room, the others following close behind. On instinct, Alfred ran with them, his stride only matched by a pair of twins with odd hair curls. They all burst into Kiku's room, Alfred staying near the door and Kiku's family crowding around the bed.

"Kiku! Is it true aru? 它是否是真实的您厌食？ 告诉我! _[Is it true that you're anorexic? Tell me!] _Kiku!." Yao cried, grabbing hold of Kiku's hand.

Kiku looked around the room, panicked. All he could see were the frightened faces of his family. His eyes fell on Alfred and he stopped. He took in the fear and uncertainty in Alfred's eyes. They were both suffering. If Kiku continued, Alfred wouldn't be able to stop either.

"はい。 それは本当である。_[Yes. It's true.]_" Kiku said, tears falling down his cheeks.

Yao let out a sob and wrapped his arms around Kiku, cradling him, "Oh Kiku. 我很抱歉。 我抱歉。 我可怜的小兄弟。 我应该看见了它。 我很抱歉。_[I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. My poor baby brother. I should have seen it. I'm so sorry.]_"

Kiku clung to Yao and let out cries of his own. His family around him cried along with him. Alfred just watched. He had the sudden image of himself on the bed with his family around him, crying. His heart clenched and he walked out. He needed to end this.

"Excuse me nurse?" he said to a young nurse who was walking by, "Could you please check my throat?"

"Of course. Is it hurting you?" she asked, leading him into a check up room.

"Well, kinda." Alfred admitted.

She frowned at him, "Young man, we can't waist time chasing ghost illnesses. Now, is something wrong with your throat or not?"

"Yes ma'am." Alfred answered meekly. He obediently opened his mouth so the nurse could look. She gasped.

"My God, your throat is in terrible shape!" she said, "I'm going to call a doctor and you sit right there."

Alfred nodded and stayed where he was while the nurse ran out. It was all over now. He'd let this go on for too long.

After that, it was a whirlwind doctors and phone calls and explanations. Dad and Papa were outraged with what he'd done, then switched to consoling and understanding as Alfred explained his reasoning.

And that was how Alfred found himself here, on this pinchy chair in a shrinks office. He stared at the old man across from him, who stared back over his wire rimmed glasses.

"Alfred? Are you going to answer me?" the doctor asked.

Alfred sighed, "Yeah, sure."

**Author Commentary;** Well, this took longer than it should have. Sorry guys, I've been having terrible writers block, so things are going really slow. I'll try to get the next chapter up as fast as I can, but don't hold your breath. Hopefully the winter break will give me some time to work on this.


	31. Talking

**Author Commentary;** Well, some people asked for more in depth descriptions of Arthur and Francis' reactions to 'the big news', so this is basically what this chapter will be. In short; another fucking filler chapter because I'm out of ideas huuuuuurr.

**Title;** Talking

**Characters;** America, England, France, Canada, mentions of Japan

**Pairs;** Mentions of AmericaxJapan, FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** shounen-ai, eating disorders, angst

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Alfred leaned back in the uncomfortable chair. The Shrink kept staring, waiting for Alfred, to start spilling his guts.

"_Okay, bad analogy."_ Alfred thought. He sighed, "Well, what do you want to know?" he asked.

The doctor sighed, like he was talking to a slow child who'd heard what he was about to say a million times already, "Why don't you start at the beginning Alfred?"

Alfred shifted in the chair again, "Sure. Um, it was just after Mattie got hurt that I started it I guess."

"And why did you start?"

"I felt guilty for not being able to protect Mattie, so I found a way to punish myself for it." Alfred said.

"Why did you need to punish yourself?"

"Because I didn't protect Mattie."

"Is it your job to protect your brother?"

"Of course it is. It's been that way since we were little. I always need to protect him." Alfred shifted again.

The doctor wrote some things down in his notebook, "And why is that? Don't you think your brother can take care of himself?"

Alfred scratched his neck, "Well, yeah, but he's my little brother. Big brother's always protect their little brothers."

The doctor nodded, "Credible, and considering your past, I'm not surprised that this would be your mindset." he stared at Alfred again, "So tell me, what made you pick bulimia as an outlet for your frustration?"

Alfred shrugged, "My parents never really let us eat those sorts of foods because it's so bad for you. So figured that eating it was bad not only because it was bad for my body, but because my parents also forbade eating it."

"But you also threw it back up. Why is that?" the doctor asked.

"I didn't want to become unhealthy. I mean, my parents forbade it for a reason, it's really bad for you." Alfred said.

The doctor nodded, scribbling away in his notebook, "But then why eat the food in the first place?"

Alfred growled, "I just told you, I was punishing myself."

"But why not just keep it down? Why throw it up? Keeping it down seems like a bigger punishment."

Alfred rolled his eyes, "I didn't want to get unhealthy. We're going in circles with this doc."

The doctor sighed again, "I heard that your parents were quite upset when they got the news that you were bulimic. How exactly did they react?"

"_Alfred how could you do this to yourself!" Arthur cried, completely forgetting they were in a hospital and people could hear them._

"_I don't know." Alfred said meekly, not meeting his dad's eyes._

"_What do you mean 'you don't know'? Alfred! This is serious! You don't just do something like this for no reason!" Arthur shouted._

"_I agree wiz your father Alfred. 'ow could you do such a zing?" Francis said, not so much angry like Arthur, but more shocked and horrified._

_Alfred whimpered, he knew this was going to be hard, but he didn't know how miserable he would feel hearing his parent's disappointment ring in his ears. He felt like stuffing himself full of burgers and throwing it all back up again, no water to soothe his burning throat afterward._

"_I-I just felt so horrible about what happened to Mattie." Alfred murmured quietly._

"_What happened to Ma- Alfred! How many times do I have to tell you that what happened to Matthew wasn't your fault!" Arthur cried._

_Alfred looked at his feet, "But . . . I feel so guilty." he mumbled._

_Arthur's eyes softened. He sighed and sat down next to Alfred, "I'm not angry with you Alfred. I'm just . . . disappointed. I can't believe you would do this to yourself, no matter what your justification. I though we taught you better than that."_

_Francis sat on Alfred's other side, "Do not worry cher, we will get some professional 'elp for you, so you can over come zis." he said, rubbing Alfred's back._

_Alfred nodded. He leaned and rested his head on Arthur's shoulder. He was so tired, and his father's presence was so comforting. He looked over and spotted Matthew standing in the doorway. He caught Matthew's eyes for a moment. Matthew looked frightened and uncertain. Silently, he backed out of the doorway and disappeared into the hall. Alfred choked and buried his nose into Arthur's should letting out a sob. Arthur just held his ill son while he cried._

"Yeah it was kind of harsh, but they're understanding at least." Alfred said.

The doctor nodded, "Most parents are. It's obvious that your adoptive parents love you very much."

Alfred smiled a little and nodded, "Yeah, thank God."

**Author Commentary;** Well, this isn't very good. And it took longer than it should have. Rawr I'll just have to deal with it for now. Hope you liked it.


	32. Mending

**Author Commentary;** So the last chapter was rather short, oh well, I'll try to make up for it in this chapter.

**Title;** Mending

**Characters;** America, Canada, Japan, England, France

**Pairs;** lingering AmericaxJapan, FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** shounen-ai, angst, eating disorder fall-outs

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Healing was a slow and painfully nerve-wracking process. Alfred tried not to resist what the doctor did to him, useless advice and brightly coloured pills, but he found that he felt better with his family than in the doctor's office. His fathers were very helpful, but Matthew seemed to be avoiding him.

"I'm sure he's just upset about all this Alfred. He'll come around." Arthur assured him.

"Oui, 'e is probably in shock cher." Francis said.

Alfred sighed and just took his crazy candies in silence.

One person who did manage to speak to him was Kiku, though only for short periods of time allotted by the visiting hours of the hospital. Alfred made sure to go whenever he could, not willing to abandon his best friend.

"Alfred-kun, I wish to thank you." Kiku said one day, "If it had not been for you, I would not have stopped doing what I was doing."

Alfred gave him a puzzled look, "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have kept going until you collapsed."

Kiku shook his head, "No, I was I who first came up with the idea to become friends and sentenced us to mutual secrecy. I am to blame Alfred-kun."

Alfred was about to retort with 'no, it's my fault', but he stopped, "You know what, never mind. We're just going to go in circles if we keep this up. Neither of us are at fault and both of us are at fault. Or something."

Kiku was quiet a moment, then he smiled a little, "You are right Alfred-kun, I aporo-"

"No apologies either." Alfred said quickly.

Kiku laughed a little, "Hai, Alfred-kun."

Alfred smiled, happy to see Kiku smiling again. Things had been tough for both of them, but together, they could hopefully get through it. They'd swallow their crazy candies and smile and nod as the doctors told them how they were so glad that they weren't resisting treatment. Alfred had the distinct feeling that the doctors were only happy that they weren't prolonging their interactions.

Take your pills.

Don't do this.

Do that.

I'm so glad that you aren't questioning my logic.

Next please.

So Alfred shuffled along, gulping down whatever they gave him and doing the practises they told him to do so he could exorcise the demons and ghosts that haunted his poor misguided brain.

"Alfred?" Arthur called through the door, "Are you okay? You've been cooped up in your room all afternoon."

"I'm fine Dad." Alfred called back.

Arthur opened the door a crack. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn tight, making the room dark. Arthur squinted to see Alfred laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Arthur sighed, "Alfred, please. You've been sulking for days. Enough is enough."

"I'm not sulking." Alfred insisted.

Arthur flicked on the lights and wandered over to his son lying prone on the bed, "You are too sulking young man." Arthur sat down, "Now, tell me what's on your mind."

Alfred stayed quiet for a long time. Arthur just sat and waited for Alfred to speak.

"I feel like I've failed." Alfred said finally.

"How so?" Arthur asked.

Alfred sighed, "I don't know. I just feel like I failed."

"Failed at what?" Arthur narrowed his eyes, "Failed at keeping your secret?"

Alfred sat up, "No no! Not that. I just . . ."

"Just what?" Arthur asked. He laid a hand over Alfred's, "You know you can talk to me Alfred, I'm you father."

Alfred squeezed Arthur's hand, "I know." he said quietly, "I know." he repeated, "I just feel like I failed you guys. And Mattie. I feel like I disappointed you."

Arthur sighed, "Well, the truth is Alfred that I am disappointed in you. I though I raised you to be smarter than this." Arthur said, rubbing small circles on Alfred's hand with his thumb, "But you haven't failed us. The only time you'll ever fail your Papa and I is when you stop trying. The only time you'll ever fail you brother is when you stop trying." He smiled a little, "So long as you try you hardest, I'm proud to call you my son."

Alfred smiled back a little, his whitened and tired face lighting up with his old fire and exuberance, "Thanks Dad."

Arthur smiled, then stood up, "Now, now that that's all cleared up, why don't you go talk to Matthew? I bet he misses his big brother."

Alfred flushed, "I don't think he wants to talk to me."

Arthur furrowed his brows, "Nonsense. He loves you. Now go speak to him. He's out in the backyard."

"But-"

"Now young man." Arthur said, getting that tone of voice parents get when they know you're going to do something even if you do it kicking and screaming. Alfred sighed and got up.

It was rather cold out, the air still had the chill of winter in it, even though it was mostly mud on the ground now. Matthew was sitting on the old bench in the back yard, his favourite place to sit when he wanted to think. He held his beloved stuffed bear Kumajiro in his arms, chin buried in the soft fur and eyes distant. Alfred felt a stab of guilt. Matthew looked so forlorn, so sad, and is was all because of Alfred. When he plopped down beside Matthew on the bench, the timid boy jumped in surprise, then flushed and averted his eyes when he realized that it was his brother.

"Hey Mattie." Alfred said.

Matthew hesitated a minute, "Hi." he said quietly.

They sat there for a while, not saying anything. After a few minutes Alfred scooted closer, "Listen Mattie, I'm really sorry about everything."

Matthew raised an eyebrow at him, "For what?"

Alfred sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "Everything. For putting you through my problems, for pushing you to the side when you needed me the most, for not being able to protect you. Everything!"

Matthew buried his chin into his bear again, "You don't have to be sorry Al. I'm the one who's sorry." he choked a little, "This never would have happened if I was strong enough to protect myself." Matthew sniffed as a few tears pricked the corners of his eyes, "If I was strong enough to protect myself, I wouldn't need to rely on you all the time and you wouldn't have to do things like this because you feel guilty even though it's all my fault."

Alfred wrapped his arms around Matthew stunned, "What do you mean your fault? You did nothing. You've been a perfect little angel."

Matthew buried his face into Alfred's jacket, "But I'm not. It's all my fault. I was stupid and I made you upset." he sniffed and hiccoughed.

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked.

Matthew sniffed and sobbed for another minute, "I provoked her that day. She was angry and I only made it worse by opening my big stupid mouth."

Alfred held Matthew tight, "Don't ever think that Matthew. You're not guilty of anything. I'm the one who screwed up. I shouldn't have left you alone in that apartment and I shouldn't have tried to shoulder my guilt with an eating disorder. You've done nothing wrong okay?" he said, running his cold fingers through the soft blond curls and holding Matthew tight.

Matthew smiled a little, _"You're so cruel Alfred. You shoulder all the blame and try to protect me, but all you're really doing is denying me the right to care about you."_

**Author Commentary;** Ffffffff well, um . . . huuuuurr I don't know what to say. I guess just that I mostly just winged it for this one? Oh well, hope you liked.


	33. Transition

**Author Commentary;** Well, the last chapter ended rather cryptically, and we're going to here Matthew's story later, but right now we're actually going to focus on Kiku. This is going to be a short chapter, but I think it's going to be at least a little significant.

**Title;** Transition

**Characters;** America, Japan

**Pairs;** Ending AmericaxJapan

**Rating;** K+

**Warnings;** Shounen-ai, break up, eating disorder fallout, angst

Alfred had almost completely recovered from the physical aspects of his eating disorder. Kiku was making good progress as well, and was even released from the hospital. Emotionally, they had a long way to go. Alfred found himself nearly back to his old self, joking with Matthew and whining about homework. Other than his weekly check ups with the doctors and his daily pills, his life was back to how it used to be.

Kiku seemed to be doing good as well. Before, he'd shut out his siblings, unwilling to 'trouble them with his own needs', but now he could be seen talking to his brothers and sisters. He even had a job, so he could buy his own food instead of taking Yao's money. Yao saw no reason not to let him have a job, but made sure that Kiku knew that he didn't mind sharing what he earned with them, and if he did, he wasn't a good brother.

"But nii-san, you are a wonderfur brother." Kiku insisted.

Yao smiled, "And what makes me a good brother aru?" he asked.

"Werr, you are kind, and you take care of us, and you are very giving-"

"Exactly aru." Yao said, cutting Kiku off, "Being a good brother means sacrificing a little of yourself to your siblings aru. For me, you not accepting the food that I worked so hard to provide for you is worse than what accepting it seemed to be for you aru." Yao explained, "I love you Kiku aru. I want to provide for you aru." Yao smiled a serene smile, "I **want** to feed you aru."

Kiku suddenly felt the weight of what he'd done come crashing down on him. When he'd been starving himself, he'd only put himself into the equation. He'd never considered how selfish his actions were until now. How much he would be hurting Yao and the rest of his family. Kiku felt that weight settle around him and crash his barriers and walls. For the next few hours, Kiku just sobbed into Yao's shirt, aware of the rest of his family crowding around them and offering soft words of comfort, each in their own language. Kiku felt surrounded by his family, his mismatched, chaotic, perfect family.

When Kiku returned to school, he was welcomed back by Alfred.

"Kiku!" Alfred said, wrapping his strong arms around Kiku's slim, but no longer boney, shoulders, "It's good to have you back."

Kiku was startled by the contact, but relaxed after a moment and hugged Alfred back. It felt nice to be in Alfred's arms. He was warm and felt safe, protected. After a few moments, he realized that the hug had gone on for longer then it should have.

"U-um, Alfred-kun? You can ret go now." Kiku said, blushing.

Alfred let go and stepped back, "Oh, sorry." He said, chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck with a blush. That was a little embarrassing.

Kiku smiled a little, "It is okay Alfred-kun. I have somewhat become used to your exuberance."

Alfred chuckled again, "Yeah, I guess I just don't think about it when I do that."

"It is okay Alfred-kun. It is one of the things that makes you who you are. I would not have it any other way." Kiku said, smiling brightly.

Alfred blushed. He was about to say something more when the warning bell rang for first block, "Shit, we better ski-daddle."

Kiku chuckled, but the sound was a little hollow. After a moment like that, he felt like he was walking on a soft surface. Every time he took a step, he wobbled and nearly lost his balance. Outwardly, he was a smiling boy returning to school after a long ordeal that wasn't over yet. Inwardly he was a shivering child afraid that he may have ruined the best thing in his life.

Throughout the day, Kiku noticed that something had changed. Alfred stuck close to his little brother, Matthew. He figured it would be just for one day, as Alfred and Kiku adjusted to one another again. However, days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Alfred and Kiku barely spoke to each other. When they saw each other in the hallways, they waved and smiled, and then went their separate ways. When Kiku realized that they were growing apart, he panicked. He wanted to call Alfred, speak to him, spend more than five minutes with him, anything! But he didn't know if they'd crossed the line between 'friends' and 'used to be friends', but the more he waited, the closer they got to the line and the more he thought about it the more he panicked. Finally one day he acted.

"Alfred-kun, Alfred-kun!" Kiku called, struggling to catch up to the tall blonde.

Alfred stopped and turned, surprised to see Kiku, "Oh, hey Kiku. What's up?"

"May I speak with you after schoor today?" Kiku asked, somewhat breathless.

"Sure." Alfred said, a little confused.

When school ended, Alfred showed up at Kiku's locker, "You wanted to talk to me?" he asked.

Kiku's words caught in his throat and he let out a squeak. He nodded and motioned to a secluded hallway. Alfred raised an eyebrow, but nodded and followed Kiku into the hall. Kiku didn't say anything and refused to meet Alfred's eyes. Alfred shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"So . . . what did you want to talk about?" Alfred asked after a minute.

Kiku took a deep breath, "A-Alfred-kun I . . ." Kiku faltered, "I-Iloveyou." he meant to say it clearly, but it came out as a condensed whimper.

Despite the words being distorted, Alfred heard them. He blushed, his mind grinding to a halt and exploding into action all at once. Wait, what? Huh? Kiku loved him? What? Hold on.

"Y-you what?" Alfred said, once his voice caught up with the rest of his body, "You're in love with me?"

Kiku nodded, looking away from Alfred. This was so embarrassing, "I am sorry to have inconvenienced you Alfred-kun. I wirr be on my way now. Sumimasen." Kiku tried to side step around Alfred, but Alfred grabbed his arm and tugged him back.

"Wait!" Alfred said, pulling Kiku close, "I-I need to tell you something!"

Kiku blushed even harder at the closeness and the warmth of Alfred's hand through his sleeve, "Wh-what did you want to say?" he stuttered out.

Alfred blushed hard, "U-um . . . I'm not sure."

An awkward moment passed. Kiku avoided looking at Alfred and Alfred stared at his feet. Kiku attempted to tug his arm away once or twice, but Alfred held firm, "Kiku I . . . I can't accept your feelings."

Kiku's heart leapt into his throat and choked him, "N-nani?"

Alfred let go of Kiku's arm and raked his hand through his hair, "I just don't think it'll work out between us. I mean, I like you and all, and maybe even romantically, but . . . we should just stay friends I think."

"Why?" Kiku questioned. Oh great, now he sounded desperate.

Alfred sighed and bit his lip, "What happened to us, what we did to ourselves . . . it's too soon Kiku. What if we start going back to our old habits?"

Kiku shook his head, "You do not know that."

Alfred gently put his hands on Kiku's shoulders, "Kiku, I'm sorry, but I promised my family that I wouldn't go back. I can't take any chances." He stroked Kiku's cheek with his thumb, "We had something good, but it was only held together by our secret." Alfred looked pained, "I can't do that to my family. I can't do that to Mattie."

Kiku felt like he was going to cry, but he nodded in understanding. Just as he had made a promise to his family, Alfred had made a promise to his, and would do anything to keep it. Even if it meant leaving a lover as a friend. He felt tears fall down his cheeks in searing hot trails. Alfred sighed and pulled him into an embrace.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." he chanted over and over, rubbing Kiku's back. He really liked Kiku, but he didn't want to take the chance. His brother was his priority now.

Kiku pulled back and looked up into Alfred's eyes. A moment like the one where they first kiss passed. Kiku stretched up on his toes the same moment that Alfred leaned down. Their lips met, this time interrupted by anyone. Their mouths moved together in harmony. Kiku clung to Alfred's jacket and Alfred wrapped his arms around Kiku's slim waist. They pulled away after a long moment, both of them panting slightly. Alfred clenched his eyes slightly and yanked himself away. He'd let this go on long enough.

"Wait!" Kiku shouted, grabbing onto Alfred's jacket.

"Kiku, I already told you, I can't-"

"For just one night then." Kiku said, "Just one night. Prease,"

Alfred sighed, "Kiku, please don't-"

"Be my first." Kiku said quickly, "For just one night. Take my virginity."

**Author Commentary;** Well, this turned out to be longer than I thought. Oh well. Heehee, I'm just evil with these cliff-hangers aren't I?


	34. Lover

**Author Commentary;** So the last chapter ended with a doozy of a cliff-hanger. And now we get to the fun results! Huzah!

**Note;** God dammit I keep forgetting Kiku's accent.

**Title;** Lover

**Characters;** America, Japan, Canada

**Pairs;** ending AmericaxJapan

**Rating;** M

**Warnings;** yaoi, sex, emotional rolercoasting

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

"Take my virginity."

The words fell so easily from Kiku's lips that even Kiku looked surprised. Alfred stared down at the smaller male. His brain told him to keep walking and leave Kiku there. But his body and heart drew him back. It couldn't hurt, could it? If it was for only one night, then they could go their separate ways and never have to say another word to each other. Hormones and reason clashed. When Alfred finally thought he'd made up his mind, he gave Kiku his answer.

"Okay."

That night, Kiku and Alfred stared at the unruffled motel bed. They had agreed on a local and a time, then prepared the necessary items, then told their families that they would be out hat night. The last step had taken some arguing, but they'd managed to get their families to agree to let them stay out late.

Alfred took a breath. It wasn't too late to back out of this. He could turn around right now and walk out the door. No one would know, and he'd never have to speak to Kiku again. But something compelled him to stay, hormones, emotions, or some other unknown leash keeping him tethered to the teen next to him for just a while longer.

The silence was broken by Alfred, who let out a nervous chuckle and scratched the back of his head, "I guess we should get started then, huh?" he said with a laugh.

Kiku nodded, but didn't share his laughter. Wordlessly, he climbed onto the bed, noticeably shaking. Alfred leaned over and placed a comforting hand over Kiku's.

"We don't have to do this, we-" Alfred started to say, but we cut off by a panicked look from Kiku and the smaller throwing his arms around Alfred.

"No! I-I want this. Prease . . . prease." Kiku whimpered.

Alfred stood still for a moment, feeling Kiku shake against him. He wrapped his arms around Kiku's thin torso. Kiku let out a somewhat relieved sigh, sure that Alfred would stay at least a few more minutes. Alfred tried to relax a little and kneeled on the bed next to Kiku. They continued to stay close, even when the embrace became awkward. After a few minutes, Alfred pulled back to look into Kiku's dark eyes. They stared back at him, confused and afraid. Alfred decided that if they were going to do this, they might as well get started.

Hesitantly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Kiku's. They were both tense and tight-lipped. After a moment, they began to relax and started kissing properly. Feeling a little daring, Kiku peeked his tongue out through his lips. Alfred returned the favour and quickly dominated the kiss. They laid down on the bed and continued to make out. Running on hormones now, Alfred slipped his hand up Kiku's shirt, laying his hand over the still prominent ribs.

"Ah~" Kiku moaned, breaking the kiss. Alfred began laying kisses and small nips to his jaw and neck, "A-alfred."

Alfred tugged Kiku's shirt up and off, tossing it away. His heart clenched at how thin Kiku still was. Kiku, sensing Alfred's discomfort, quickly said, "I have arways been very thin. I am armost the same weight as what I started as."

Alfred just felt his heart clench more. He disguised it by ducking down to take a pert pink nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly on it. Kiku moaned and arched his back. Alfred took the other between his fingers and rolled it, then switched, creating two hard nubs under his touch.

Kiku moaned and twisted on the bed. He fisted his hands in Alfred's shirt and tugged it up. Alfred removed it and tossed it away. Kiku blushed at the sight of Alfred's toned chest and stomach. If his body had changed at all from the bulimia, it certainly didn't show anymore.

Alfred reached down and undid the buckle of Kiku's pants. Slowly, so Kiku could protest if he wanted to, Alfred slid Kiku's pants and boxers down his hips and off. Kiku blushed hard, looking away in embarrassment. Alfred flushed as well. This was the first time he'd ever seen another person who wasn't his family naked. Alfred took a moment just to stare at Kiku's pale, wispy body.

Alfred bent down and started to lick at the delicate skin of his belly. Kiku whined, but began moaning as Alfred travelled lower, coming dangerously close to the nest of curls at the junction of his thighs. He yelped when Alfred took his leaking erection into his mouth, "Ah! Alfred!"

Alfred hummed and sucked on the straining manhood. Hands tugged insistently at his hair, but he kept it slow, afraid of snagging a tooth or doing it too hard. He released the erection, panting lightly, and reached to rid himself of the last of his own clothes.

Kiku 'eep'ed' at the sight of Alfred completely naked. His erection was fairly large, but it didn't deter Kiku in the slightest. He wanted Alfred to be his first, no matter what.

Alfred grabbed the lube that they had placed on the bedside table. Fumbling slightly, he coated some of his fingers with the slippery substance and brought it down to Kiku's entrance.

"Are you ready." Alfred asked, trying not to shake from his nervousness.

Kiku blushed, but nodded. It was so embarrassing to be asked that sort of question.

Alfred gave a nod and pushed one finger in. Kiku let out a gasp. Alfred nearly freaked out and pulled away, but he steeled himself and kept pressing until it was all the way in. Kiku let out a shuddering breath, but nodded at Alfred to keep going. Alfred started to lightly thrust his finger in and out of Kiku, causing the other to moan. Alfred pressed another finger in and Kiku let out a yelp.

"S-sorry." Alfred said, worried that he;d done something wrong, "Do you want me to stop?"

Kiku shook his head, refusing to open his eyes, "K-keep going. 私は良く、公正なたくわえの行くことである。 。 _[I'll be fine, just keep going. Please.]_"

Alfred didn't understand what Kiku said in Japanese, but he nodded and continued. He scissored and stretched Kiku, adding a third finger, making sure that he was properly stretched.

"A-ah~ A-Alfred, I-I am ready. Prease, put it in." Kiku whined after a few minutes of diligent stretching.

Alfred flushed, "A-are you sure? We don't have to do this you know."

Kiku shook his head, "I want to do this. I want to do this with you."

Alfred blushed and nodded. He reached for the condom and slipped it on. He stopped for a minute, then flipped them over so Kiku was straddling his hips, "So we can go at your pace." he explained.

Kiku blushed, but nodded. He reached behind himself and grabbed hold of Alfred's generous erection. Alfred moaned as Kiku took hold of it, then gasped as he began lowering himself onto it, "K-Kiku."

Kiku whined as he slid down onto Alfred. It hurt, there was no denying that, but at the same time it was pleasurable, and emotionally fulfilling. He was now Alfred's first, as Alfred was his first. There was no breaking that bond, no matter what they did now.

They stayed like that for a moment, both of them adjusting and comprehending what had just happened. They caught each other's eyes and another moment passed between them. Wordlessly, Kiku began to lift and bounce his hips. Alfred groaned and arched his hips to meet Kiku's. Their rhythm was slow at first, but they gradually built speed as they continued. Both parties moaned and whined as they closed in on that blissful edge. Alfred propped himself up on his hands and stretched his neck up to kiss Kiku, falling just short of his lips. Kiku met him halfway and they locked into a lust filled kiss, tinged with the desperate need to reach release.

Alfred tipped first, coming with a cry, filling the condom. Kiku followed shortly after as Alfred's erection struck his prostate. Thick white cream splashed over Alfred's chest, but neither of them noticed. They stayed suspended in the waves of climax for a moment, then collapsed onto the bed together. Alfred had enough mind left to lift Kiku off of him and pull the condom away, tying it and tossing it into the trash. Kiku panted on top of Alfred, snuggled warmly into his chest. They fell asleep together, warm and sated.

The next morning, Alfred woke alone.

**Author Commentary;** I wrote the lemon part of this chapter buzzed off 7up, orange juice, and vodka.


	35. Depressed

**Author Commentary;** So I was evil last chapter, nothing new. The story is actually going start 'splitting', focussing on both Matthew and Alfred's stories.

**Title;** Depressed

**Characters;** Canada, mentions of America, England, and France

**Pairs;** mentions of FrUK

**Rating;** M

**Warnings;** angst, rape

**Disclaimer; **I don't own Hetalia.

Matthew walked along the darkened streets of Montreal. He was now twenty, and living on his own. He'd moved out of his father's place and gone to pursue a career in painting, like everyone always told him to. And why not? He was really good at painting, ever since he was a small child. Alfred had gone south to the USA to find his place in Hollywood. Arthur and Francis stayed and managed their business together, offering a place for Alfred and Matthew to return to when the world simply became too rough. Everything was as it should be.

So why did Matthew feel so depressed?

He had a loving family, was on the road to a good career, and had all the other necessities of life. But Matthew just didn't feel 'happy'. His 'friends' didn't understand why he was so down all the time and his family was none the wiser due to Matthew trying his damnedest not to let them be dragged into his problems. They had enough to worry about already.

Matthew sighed and turned into the corner store he always stopped by on his way home. The girl who worked the counter looked up and greeted him in rapid French. Matthew smiled at her and answered back in the same French. It had taken some getting used to, this form of French, but he found he preferred it over his Papa's French. Maybe it was his patriotism, or maybe it just flowed from his lips easier.

"Bonjour Matthew, vas tu? _[Good evening Matthew, how have you been?]_" she asked, smiling brightly.

Matthew smiled back at her, "Plutot bien. _[Just fine.]_" He answered.

"Comment va l`ecole? _[How's school?]_" she asked as he browsed the store.

"Bien _[Good.]_" he said back, smiling.

She darted around the corner to follow him as he walked around the store, "Et toi le travail? _[And work?]_"

Matthew picked up a few items and inspected the labels, "Je ne peut pas me plaindre, et toi? _[I can't complain. What about you?]_"

Sh blushed, "Ah moi? Ben- _[Oh me? Well-]_" she then began to chatter away about everything that was knew in her life. Matthew listened politely, adding comments in here and there. She really was a sweet girl, and she was clearly interested. If Matthew asked, she'd surely go out on a date with him. All he had to do was drop even the slightest sign of interest. He never did though. He had no idea why though. She was smart, funny, pretty, and a nice girl. Other guys would jump at the chance to go out with her, Matthew could barely remember her name. He filled his basket with some groceries and went to the counter.

"Merci d`avoi shopper icitte. _[Thanks for shopping here. Did you need anything else?]_" She asked as she bagged his items.

"M`remerci pas. Passe une bonne soirée. _[No thanks. Have a nice night.]_" he said with a small smile.

She leaned over the counter, "Ah, avant d`partir, ya un party en bas d`la rue. Peut être j`va t`voir? _[Ah, before you go, there's a party tonight down the street. Maybe I'll see you there?]_" she inquired, twirling her hair and batting her eyes at him.

This was Matthew's chance. All he had to do was say 'yes' and open himself up to a world of possibilities. He could have a cute girlfriend, go dancing and get drunk, maybe make some new friends. All he had to do was say one little word.

"Peut être un autre fois, mais merci pareil. _[No thanks. Maybe another time.]_"

Her face fell, "Ouin, peut-être une autre fois. Bon soir. _[Y__eah, sure. Another time. Have a nice evening.]_" she said, though her heart didn't sound in it.

Matthew smiled at her and left the store, heading towards his apartment.

Shit.

Matthew sighed and looked up at the sky, clouded and not a single star shining through. What was wrong with him? Was he just anti-social? Stupid? Crazy? Or was it because of his depression? If so, why hadn't he gone with her? That was sure to get him out of this rut. He sighed again, who was he kidding? He would have gone through the motions of having a good time, but he would have been as depressed as he always was. It wasn't going to change, nothing ever did.

Suddenly, a hand closed over his mouth and yanked him backwards. Another hand grabbed a fist-full of hair and smashed his head against what Matthew guessed was a large dumpster. He blacked out for a moment. When he came to, the person to whom the hands belonged to was positioned behind him. Matthew was confused until he felt a cold chill brush the bare skin of his hips and rear.

Rape. He was being raped.

Matthew squeaked in horror and thrashed in the mans' grip. The man growled and smashed his head against the dumpster again. Matthew was stunned long enough for the man to readjust himself and unzip. Matthew was brought to full consciousness as a blinding pain seared through him. He let out a shriek, but it was muffled by the mans hand.

"_Oh God please, please no. Not this. Anything but this! I'll crawl on my hands and knees across Canada. I'll throw myself into the sea. I'll do anything! Please not this!"_ Matthew begged in his mind.

He was five years old again, pinned helplessly under his father. There was nothing he could do but cry and clutch Alfred's hand as he waited for it to be all over. Matthew clenched his hand, but the warmth of his brother was not there.

Tears streamed down his face, "A-Al. A-Alfred." he whined, "D-daddy, p-please stop. St-stop it. I-I'll be good. I-I p-pro-promise. Pl-please!" he cried through the mans' hand.

The man took no notice and finished inside of him. Matthew let out a choked sob and slid to the ground as the man slipped out of his body and ran off. Matthew just sat and sobbed, drowning in his pain and grief. Matthew must have stayed there or hours before finally pulling himself together and cleaning up. He fixed his appearance as much as he could and stood, making his way out of the alley. He somehow made it to his apartment without a hitch. Without making a sound, he collapsed onto his bed.

Why? Why was this happening to him? Why couldn't he have lived a normal life? What had he done to deserve all this? Raped by his father, abused by their mother, taken away from everything they knew and plopped into a new world, then ripped out of it and tortured and beaten until he was near death, then thrust back into his old life and expected to function like normal, and finally, when he was just beginning to get past all that, raped again, this time by a stranger. Why had this happened to him? He was a good person. Whatever life had thrown him, he stumbled and kept on going. He never extended a cruel hand towards anyone, no matter how many cruel hands had been laid on him.

Matthew laid on his bed for hours, not moving even when his body cramped and screamed for a new position. Matthew didn't sleep at all. When he finally dragged himself up to the shower, he moved like a zombie. He stumbled into the shower and turned it on, not even bothering to undress. Eventually he undressed himself and tossed his sopping clothes to the floor. He didn't care anymore. He just didn't care anymore. He washed the grime off of him, cleaned out the gross feeling left inside him, and then washed his hair. He stepped out of the shower, still dripping wet, and crawled into bed.

He stayed there for days on end, only moving to find food and go to the bathroom. His phone rang a few times, but he didn't pick up. After four days, his phone was ringing non-stop, both his cellphone and his landline. He rolled over and grabbed his cell, flipping it open without checking the call ID, "What?" he grouched.

"Mattie! What the hell have you been doing! I've been trying to reach you for three days! Are you hurt? Are you sick? Where are you? Are you okay? What the fuck happened!" Alfred's voice screeched over the phone.

Matthew winced and pulled the phone away from his ear, "Al, I'm fine okay. I've just been a little sick is all." he lied automatically.

"No one has heard from you in four days Mattie!" Alfred insisted, "What the hell kind of sickness did you have?"

Matthew groaned and rubbed his eyes, "Don't know. Flu of some sort I think."

"Has someone been taking care of you?" Alfred asked, a little calmer now.

Matthew sat up, his body cramping and straining, "No, just me. I managed to nurse myself back to health."

Alfred let out a sigh, "Jesus H. Christ Mattie, you scared the living shit outta me. I was scared that you got kidnapped or some shit." some grumbling, "Are you okay now?"

"Yeah, just fine Al. Don't worry so much." Matthew said, picking up some dirty clothes and putting them in his laundry basket.

Alfred huffed, "You're my baby bro, I have every right to worry." A pause, "You should call Dad and Papa, they're going hysterical with worry. Dad's on the verge of a nervous breakdown and Papa is threatening to fly off to Montreal to check on you."

Matthew laughed, "Scary, I'll phone right away."

"I'm serious Mattie. Dad's going to give himself a heart attack if he keeps fretting, and Papa is barely holding himself together."

Matthew felt a pang. How could he have been so selfish? "I'll call them Al, don't worry." he insisted.

Alfred grumbled, "You better." he said. Then he got serious again, "Mattie, are you **sure** you're okay?"

"_Just say it."_ Matthew though to himself. All he had to do was say it and Alfred would come flying in to be his hero. Dad and Papa would drop everything and whisk him off home, where they would painstakingly help put Matthew's life back together. All he had to do was say three little words.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Matthew said again, "I've just been out sick okay? I forgot to tell anyone and didn't have the strength to do more than cling to the toilet."

Alfred let out a sigh, "Geez Mattie, you're such a scatterbrain. You had everyone worried about you."

"Sorry. It won't happen again." Matthew said.

The brother's chatted for a few more minutes before they said their good byes and hung up. Matthew dialled another number he knew by heart and waited for the other end to pick up.

"Y-yes? What is it?" Arthur's voice floated over the phone. He sounded worried and shaken.

Matthew took a deep breath, "Dad, it's me."

"Matthew!" Arthur cried. There was a shuffle over the phone, and another voice in the background, speaking in quick French, "What the hell have you been doing? Do you have any idea how worried sick your Papa and I have been?"

"Sorry Dad." Matthew said, "I got sick and forgot to call anyone."

"Good grief boy. Your Papa and I were worried sick!" Arthur said over the phone. There was a shuffle again as Arthur sat down, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a nasty bug or something." Matthew explained.

Arthur sighed, "Goodness boy, next time call us. I nearly had a heart attack worrying over you."

"Sorry Dad, it won't happen again." Matthew said.

"Bloody hell better not." Arthur grumbled, "Your Papa wants to talk to you."

More shuffling as the phone was passed over, "Mon chou! Est-ce que t`es correct? T`étais malade? Est-ce tu veux qu`on viennent te voir? _[My darling! Are you all right? I heard you were sick! Do you need us to come over?]_"

Matthew rolled his eyes, "Ben non `pa, t`as pas besion de monter a Montreal pour moi. C`était rien qu`une grippe. _[No Papa, you don't need to come to Montreal for me. I'm fine now. Just a bug.]_"

"T`es tu sure mon petit? Était tu trop malade pour prendre le telephone, ou tu l`as pas entendu? _[Are you sure mon petit? Were you too ill to get to the phone, or did you not hear it?]_" Francis asked.

Matthew loved his Papa, but it was kind of annoying how perceptive he could be, "J`avais juste pas l`énergie de me l`ver. Pis j`avais pas le goût de dealer avec persone. En plus j`avais pu de voix. _[I didn't have the energy to pick it up. I didn't want to deal with anyone. And besides, I didn't have a voice anyway.]_"

A grumbled from over the phone, "Si t`es sure.. _[If you're sure that you're okay.]"_

"_Ben oui `pa, pas besion de t`inqueter.__ [I am Papa, nothing to worry about.]_"

**Author Commentary;** So I'm an evil bitch, nothing you didn't know about before.


	36. Caller

**Author Commentary;** I don't understand how so many people still love my story, I am such an evil bitch. Oh well, I guess it's a good thing. Anyway, Alfred's story isn't going to be as angsty as Matthew's, but I hope that it'll be good.

**Title; **Caller

**Characters;** America, England, France, Lithuania, Poland

**Pairs;** mentions of FrUK, mention of past USAxLithuania

**Warnings;** some mentions of yaoi, a bit of angsting

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Alfred yawned and sat up. He twisted around and looked at his clock. 6:58, two minutes before his alarm went off. Alfred groaned and flopped back down. He stared at the ceiling until a shrill beeping filled the air. He sighed and clicked off the alarm. He hated it when that happened. Alfred sat up and yawned. He had to get to work, then go to an audition, then go to the gym to keep in shape. If there was one thing Alfred hated about being an actor, it was how damn superficial the industry was. He knew there were a few exceptions to the 'everyone has to be skinny and fit' rule, but there weren't as many as there were beautiful and skinny people.

Alfred shook his head to dislodge the unwelcome thoughts and got up. He walked to the bathroom, rubbing his chin. Morning stubble scratched his fingertips like sandpaper. He let out a sigh and hopped into the shower.

Half an hour later, Alfred walked into the building he'd come to hate and love. He worked as a tella-marketer for some giant corporation that probably enslaved children in Nigeria. At least the pay was good. All he had to do was look busy when his boss walked by and call a few people an hour so he wasn't fired. It was a pretty slick job and it paid him twenty two bucks an hour. He plopped down his chair and winced as it screeched.

"Like, Oh em gee Alfred. Almost late much." came a voice from over top his cubicle wall. The blonde head of Feliks Łukasiewicz peeked over the flimsy wall.

Alfred got along well with the Polish cross dresser most of the time, but there had been a tense time between them when Alfred had been dating Feliks's 'BFF' Toris Laurinaitis. When they'd broken up, it wasn't three days before Feliks tore into work exclaiming that he and Toris were an item, Toris chasing after him and begging him to be quiet.

"Oh shush you. I got caught in traffic." Alfred said, "Like you've never come into work late."

Feliks giggled, "Psh, what are you talking about Al? I have like, no idea what you're talking about." he said. Alfred used to wonder why he talked like that, but then he learned that Feliks had learned English from a thirteen year old American pen pal.

"Feliks, you're supposed to be working." came a worried voice from the next cubicle over. Toris's brown hair and worried green eyes looked over at them from over the top of the walls.

Felix rolled his eyes at Toris. Alfred tuned them out as they began bickering. Well, Feliks bickered, Toris argued worriedly. He'd become used to the constant chatter between the two of them. They'd been friends for so long that Alfred didn't have a chance at joining the daily back-and-forth, especially since they'd just switched to Lithuanian and Polish.

Before he put on his headset and began 'work', Alfred pulled his cellphone from his pocket and checked it. Nothing. At least, nothing from his brother, Matthew. Alfred furrowed his brows and stared at his phone like it might go off any minute, bringing news from Canada.

Nothing.

Alfred sighed and put his phone away. He used to be so close to his brother, but lately they'd been drifting. 'Lately' being used at a stretch. Ever since Alfred had gone through his little bulimia issue, Matthew had gotten increasingly distant with him. They still talked almost every day, but Matthew talked less an less about himself. Alfred hadn't minded at first, being the attention whore that he was, but he wanted to have that close relationship again.

The work day wore on and Alfred could barely concentrate on what he was doing, his mind elsewhere. This wasn't unusual for him. Toris tried to keep him in line, as usual, and Felix did his best to distract him, as usual.

"Hey Al, you're like, totally out of it today. Seriously." Feliks said when they went on their lunch break.

"Oh really? Sorry." Alfred said.

Feliks gave him a look that was half scepticism and half friendly concern, "Seriously Al, what's up with you today? Something happen at home?"

Alfred sighed and scratched the back of his neck, "Guess I'm just worrying over my little brother. He hasn't called in a while."

Feliks raised a perfectly waxed eyebrow, "Didn't something like this happen like, last week? You were totes flipping out because you hadn't heard from him in like, four days. Didn't he turn out to just like, sick as a dog or something?"

Alfred nodded, "Well, that's what he told me anyway."

"Oh dear. That totally doesn't sound good."

Alfred sat down, "Yeah, but he wouldn't tell me what was up." Alfred said, sighing, "We just aren't close like we used to be."

"Bummer." Feliks said, sitting next to Alfred, "I hope everything turns out okay."

Alfred smiled at him, "Thanks Feliks."

**Author Commentary;** This was going to be longer, but I got stuck and decided to stop fighting with it. Hopefully I figure out how to get it going by the next chapter.

**Edit;** Holy shit . What the crap? It took me forever to be able to upload this. Stupid freaking bugs.


	37. Jump

**Author Commentary;** Stupid . Sorry the last chapter took so long. It had been done for a while, but the dumb site wasn't letting me upload it. Anyway, hopefully you enjoy this chapter.

**Title;** Jump

**Characters;** Canada, mentions of others

**Pairs;** Mentions of FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** angst, depression, thoughts of suicide, mention of past rape and trauma, rape

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia

Matthew was not doing well.

Since his attack he'd become a complete wreck. He did his best to put on a happy face for the rest of the world. If anyone took a good look at him they would only see a quiet, shy young man with a nice looking smile. In reality Matthew was only just barely hanging on. He could barely get through is day without having a mental breakdown. He couldn't walk down the street without internally panicking that someone would jump out at him. He couldn't even be in his own apartment without jumping at every little sound! It was nerve wracking, and it was beginning to wear Matthew down.

"You okay man? You looked like death warmed over." one of Matthew's co-workers said to him one day.

Matthew put up a smiling face, "I'll be just fine." he said. He wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"You sure man?" the man asked.

Matthew nodded. He finally persuaded him to leave him alone for now. He sighed and tried to focus on his work, but he was so tired and nerve-wracked that he wasn't getting anything done.

When his shift was over, Matthew's boss called him over. Matthew slumped into the uncomfortable chair in the manager's office.

"Matthew, for these last few weeks you've been late almost every day, you can't seem to get any work done and your attitude is dreadful." the balding man said to him, peering at him over his desk, obviously trying to be intimidating.

"I'm sorry sir, I've been a little . . . depressed I suppose." Matthew said.

The manager leaned back in his chair and regarded Matthew's sincerity, "I'm sorry Matthew, but I can't have workers who don't work. I'm going to have to let you go."

Matthew straightened, "Please sir, just another week. I promise I'll shape up. Please." Matthew said. He needed this job, he was struggling to pay rent as it was.

The manager shook his head, "Your last pay cheque will come in the mail."

Matthew opened his mouth to argue some more, but then closed it. There was no point in pushing the point anymore. He nodded and stood up, leaving the office and the store. He trudged towards his home, not really paying attention to anything around him.

After four months with no money coming in, Matthew was struggling to pay for anything. The landlord was threatening to toss him out if he didn't pay his rent. Matthew could only just muster up enough will power to get out of bed each morning. One night, he found himself at a bar, even though he had no money to spend there.

After three hours of just sitting at a table looking pitiful, Matthew was approached by an older man, probably even older than his fathers, "Excuse me young man, but aren't you going to drink something?"

Matthew shook his head, knowing full well that this man could be the owner of the bar and toss him out for loitering. To his surprise, then man sat down at the table with him, "Why not? Are you designated driving for someone?"

Matthew shook his head, "I don't have any money." he said.

"Oh, you poor dear." the man said, leaning over to gently pat Matthew's hand, "Why don't I buy you a drink? You sound like you've had a horrible time of it."

Matthew nodded. This man sort of reminded him of his Dad. It was rather comforting. Matthew's drink arrived, some fruity, girly thing, but Matthew drank it anyway. The alcohol felt good. After three of these, Matthew was spilling his guts to the man, who cuddled him and rubbed his back, murmuring 'there there's and 'you poor dear's.

Matthew's head was spinning. Those drinks must have been stronger than they looked, because he usually didn't feel like this until after six or eight beers. The man petted his hair and pulled him close so he was resting his head on his shoulder, "My my little one, you look a little unbalanced. I should get you home." he said.

Matthew blinked and staggered as he was pulled to his feet and tugged forward. He shivered as cold air blew across his skin. He felt himself being pushed into a car. Inside, he knew this was bad, but he couldn't seem to muster up enough brain power to protest or figure out why it was bad. As the car began moving, someone put a hand in his hair and pulled him down so his head was in someone's lap. There was some shuffling and the clink of a belt and then something was pressed into Matthew's mouth.

Startled, Matthew tried to pull away, but the hand on his head held him fast. The hand began to tug and push on his head, forcing whatever was in his mouth in and out. After some time of this, something warm and awful tasting spilled into Matthew's mouth. Matthew choked and coughed, but the hand in his hair petted him and a soothing voice told him what a good, sweet child he was. Matthew let out a hum and snuggled into the warm lap, his mind swaying with the car.

After that, things became blurred. Matthew vaguely recalled being pulled out of the car and into a room of some sort, but all he knew now was that a lot of people were looking at him, and touching his bare skin as well. That was odd, he didn't remember taking off his clothes. Something pushed painfully into him and he whined, but a calm voice crooned in his ear. He decided he liked that better and turned his head, but it was held back and something was pushed into his mouth again.

Matthew only recalled a little of what happened after that. He was tied down, put into different positions, entered by different people or different toys into either his mouth or ass, and someone was always talking to him in a calm voice. Matthew felt pain and pleasure, tasted awful things, strained his body as it was pulled into different positions. All the while he couldn't seem to bring himself to think about why this all seemed very very wrong.

When Matthew came to, he was lying on a soft bed. He shifted and agonizing pain ripped through his body, sucking the breath from him in a silent scream. He gritted his teeth against his throbbing head and screaming body and tried to make sense of his situation. Something warm and wet leaked out of his ass and he smelled the unmistakable smell of sex. Matthew's eyes widened. Had he . . . ? The clink of glasses and soft laughter reached his ears. He clenched his eyes shut and sobbed. Why did this keep happening to him?

After sobbing for a while, Matthew propped himself up to look around. He was in a hotel bedroom in a very fancy hotel. He looked out the window to see over the top of Montreal. Moving slowly, he crawled out of bed and over to the window. He fumbled with the latch and shoved the sliding glass door open. The wind sent shivers through him and raised goose bumps on his skin, but he walked onto the patio and looked out into the city below. The lights glittered and sparkled up at him. Matthew pulled himself up onto the railing of the patio, staring down into the spiralling depth of the city.

"Jump." he said to himself. No one would miss him. His own mother hadn't even been able to tell that he wasn't his brother, just like a million other strangers.

"Jump." he said again. He'd been beaten, raped, tortured, tossed around, and shoved to the sidelines all his life. He was useless.

"Jump." he said with more force, getting angry at himself. His own brother, his 'hero', wasn't here to save him, no one was, and no one ever would be.

It's not like anyone loved him.

A sudden gust of wind pushed Matthew over, teetering him against the rail. Matthew suddenly saw himself falling to his death and reeled backwards sharply. He fell off the railing and onto the patio, landing painfully on his side. He stayed there, gasping for breath as he tried to figure out what had just happened. Another wind brushed against his skin and he scrambled back into the room, slamming the sliding door so hard that he almost expected it to break.

Matthew looked around the room again. He almost crawled into the bed again, ready to curl up and pretend that, if he stayed there long enough, it would all go away.

Horrified by the thought, Matthew searched for his clothes and shoved them on. They felt gross against his skin, but he gritted his teeth against it and dressed. He crossed the room and peaked out the door. Whoever had led him here was probably in the room to the left, where the light and the sounds were coming from. Matthew quietly tip toed passed, scarcely breathing and hoping that they didn't catch him.

When he reached the coat room, Matthew stopped. All their coats were here, with their wallets in their pockets probably. If they could afford a hotel room like this, they were probably loaded with cash. Faced with such a moral dilemma, Matthew shouldered it aside and searched for cash and valuables. After what they'd done to him, this was the least Matthew could do to them.

After coming away with enough money in cash and valuable items to last him a while, Matthew opened the door and snuck out. He ran down the hall and to the elevator. Just as the doors were closing, he saw a man walk out of the room he'd just come out of, looking rather panicked. Matthew glared and flipped him the bird as his white face and shocked eyes rested on Matthew. The doors shut with a cheery little ding and Matthew was off.

A long elevator ride and an even longer cab ride later, Matthew was home in his apartment. He locked the door behind him and slid to the floor. What to do now? He couldn't keep this up. He had to do something or he would lose his mind. He launched himself off the floor and began pacing.

A few hours of rummaging around his apartment, trying to find something to help him figure out what to do, Matthew came across his passport. There were no stamps in it and the faux-leather casing was still pristine. It had just been updated a few months ago, and the picture was, as always, terrible. Matthew twirled it around his fingers and brought his hands to his pockets, full of cash and trinkets. How much was it for plane tickets anyway? It couldn't be that much could it?

Matthew threw together a bag full of clothing and essentials and left the apartment, money and passport in hand.

**Author Commentary;** Sorry about this taking so long, I got some writers block. I finally hunkered down and managed to crank this one out, which came surprisingly easy. Maybe I'm just really good at writing about people suffering? I wouldn't be surprised. Anyway, R&R please, hope you enjoyed it.


	38. Left

**Author Commentary;** So we're back to Alfred. Hopefully this chapter is easier to write than the last one I did for him.

**Note;** I think I'm going to stop writing in the accents of the characters unless it's really heavy. It's just cumbersome to write them.

**Title;** Left

**Characters;** America, Russia

**Pairs;** none

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Mild shounen-ai

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia

Alfred looked listlessly out at the smoggy city of LA. One month and three days. That was how long he hadn't heard from his brother. The amount of time that Matthew had just up and disappeared. The police had followed him as far as the international airport, where he'd purchased a ticket to England. Arthur had alerted his siblings in the UK to be on the lookout for Matthew and to talk to the police about an investigation. The RCMP hadn't found any signs struggle or Matthew being kidnapped, and their reports had shown, from multiple sources, that Matthew had been increasingly depressed in the last few weeks, and he'd just lost his job. Their guess was that Matthew had simply gotten fed up and decided to take a vacation for a while. As for why he hadn't told anyone, he was young wasn't he? He had probably just forgotten, or didn't want anyone bothering him for a while. After a while of pressing for more investigating, they'd accepted this conclusion, albeit begrudgingly.

Alfred rubbed his face. This just didn't seem like something Matthew would do. Matthew was routine, quiet, and calm. This was reckless and brash, not at all like Matthew. Alfred might do something like this, but not his little brother.

Alfred shook himself and stood up. He needed to stop worrying. Matthew was smart, and knew how to take care of himself. If he needed help, he would call. It was probably exactly what the officers said it was; Matthew was feeling depressed and decided to take an impromptu vacation. Alfred tried to put it out of his mind and grabbed his coat. He needed to get out of his apartment.

Alfred wandered the streets. He would drive, but from the smoky fog hanging over head, it didn't look like he needed to be adding to the green house emissions. Alfred wandered for a good hour and a half before his feet began to hurt and his stomach growled. He looked around for some sort of eatery. His choices were one of three Starbucks, one Subway, one of two McDonalds', and one Chinese diner. He didn't want overpriced coffee right now, and he'd never set foot into a McDonalds since he'd overcome his eating disorder. He considered Subway for a moment, but decided that he'd treat himself today and get Chinese.

Alfred walked inside and discovered that it was a Chinese buffet. It all looked so good that Alfred was barely in his seat before he told the server that he was getting the buffet.

After a very delicious meal (Alfred would definitely come back again), he picked up his bill and fortune cookie. As he paid for the meal, he cracked open the cookie and took a look at the slip of paper.

_When you leave the house tomorrow, turn left._

Alfred snorted and shook his head, tossing the slip into the trash bin as he left. What a dumb fortune. It wasn't even a proper fortune. He'd always rolled his eyes at the people who freaked out when they didn't remember to follow them. Alfred shook his head and walked back to his apartment.

The next morning, Alfred turned left when he left his apartment.

Alfred tried to justify that he always went right when he went out for his morning jog and it was good to explore. And also it would bug him if he didn't. He rolled his eyes at himself and jogged, music from his iPod thumping in his ears.

When Alfred hit his five kilometres, he stopped to catch his breath, looking at his new surroundings. Somehow, he'd wound up in some sort of 'Little insert random country name here' type place. The streets were wide, but every little alleyway showed signs of habitation. He'd pin the predominant culture as eastern Europe or something, but the writing on the signs was all wonky, so he'd put his money on Slavic.

He spotted a small coffee shop tucked in between a flower shop and a bookstore. Alfred walked over, avoiding a few people meandering about the street. He reached the shop and darted inside. It was cool inside, and smelled of a mixture of coffee, tea, and pastries. He sat down at a small table and glanced around.

"Oh, Привіт, Що б ви хотіли? _[Hello, what would you like?]_" a feminine voice asked. Alfred turned to see a _very_ well endowed woman smiling shyly at him, a notepad in hand.

"Um, I'm sorry, what did you say?" he asked. Her eyes widened and she blushed.

"I am so sorry! I did not know you don't speak Ukrainian! Forgive me!" She said, looking rather flustered.

Alfred smiled, "It's okay, it was an honest mistake." he said, "So this is 'Little Ukraine'?" He asked.

She shook her head, "Ні _[No]_, this is 'Little Russia'. Though, it would be better to say it's 'Little Slavic Country'. Most of the people here are Russian, but there is a large minority of other Slavic groups." she explained. She flushed again, "Oh my, I've forgotten to take your order! I'm so sorry!"

Alfred chuckled and waved away her concerns, "It's okay, I was the one who directed the conversation. I'll just have a coffee for now."

She nodded and wrote it down on her notepad. She was just coming back with a cup of coffee for him when the bell chimed over the door. Alfred glanced over casually, but then his eyes were somehow glued to the man who just walked in.

He wasn't all that attractive. In fact, with his over large nose and heavyset appearance, he was nearly the opposite. But he was rather striking. Everything about this man was huge. He was very tall, taller than anyone Alfred had ever met. His face was round and his soft hair was an ash blond paler than Alfred had ever seen. From the colour of his eyebrows, it was natural as well, and the only reason he could see them was because his skin was pale as could be without looking albino. He had wide shoulders and a heavy stance' he looked sturdy enough to stand his ground against a tank. He was dressed oddly as well, in a thick coat and long, tattered scarf that was either beige, yellow, or pink, but was so faded and stained that it was hard to tell what colour it had been. His gaze swung in Alfred's direction and he sucked in a breath. They were the most intense looking violet that he'd seen. Could eyes even _be_ violet?

The serving girl bounced over to the man and led him to a seat, speaking in a language that rolled over Alfred's comprehension. A regular? Looking at the two of them standing next to each other, Alfred guessed that they were related. She had the same heavy stance and facial shape.

A smaller girl came out from what was probably a kitchen area. She darted over to the man and wrapped her thin arms around his neck. Another relative, her hair was the same colour as the man's and her eyes were almost the same colour, just a tad more blue.

Alfred was definitely turning left more often.

**Author Commentary;** This one came very easily actually. I'm surprised. Anyway, R&R.


	39. Destructive

**Author Commentary;** Ah, so many things have been going on, and I've been very stressed (what with graduation coming up and all), so I may not get these chapters up very quickly. Please bare with me.

**Title;** Destructive

**Characters;** Canada, Prussia

**Pairs; **None

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Alcoholism, drug abuse

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Matthew stumbled, nearly dropping his bottle of whatever he was drinking. He righted himself after a moment and kept on walking. He had no idea where he was. He'd come to England, somehow found himself in Portugal, then Spain, then France, and now he was somewhere in Belgium or the Netherlands.

Matthew stumbled again and a couple crossed the street to avoid him. He let out a hiss and kept walking. The money he'd stolen had gone into small amounts of food, tickets, cheap hotels, and good booze. However, no matter how much he drank, he couldn't get his mind off his problems. This was supposed to be a soul searching trip across Europe, not a self destructive tour of every red light district on the European continent.

Matthew let out a small laugh at himself, then found himself leaning against a light post and vomiting onto a comatose homeless person. Matthew wiped his mouth and kept walking, taking another swig from his bottle of something. It burned his throat, but he drank it anyway, trying to drown the pain inside him.

How had he even gotten to Belgium or the Netherlands or where-ever he was? He couldn't remember, a train? He fished around in his pocket for his passport. The ugly photo stared up at him and Matthew giggled again. He flipped through the pages, looking at the stamps. There was Ireland, Scotland, England, Wales, Portugal, Spain, France, Luxembourg (he'd been to Luxembourg?), Belgium, and the last one was the Netherlands. So he was in the Netherlands. Matthew giggled. 'Netherlands', that sounded like something dirty.

Somehow, Matthew woke up in another cheap hotel. He scrambled out of bed and ran to the bathroom, vomiting violently into the sink. Making a mental note to leave a nice tip for the hotel staff, he crawled into the shower, glad that he was already naked.

How long had it been? How long had he been living in squalor like this, travelling around with nothing but his name, one bag of clothing and essentials, and enough booze to fill Lake Ontario? How had he even gotten here? All the way to Netherlands from England? And drunk the entire time as well? Matthew groaned and slumped into the side of the shower, letting the lukewarm water pelt him in the face.

Matthew tried to stay away from the booze, but he always seemed to find himself with a bottle in his hand. He couldn't even remember how he got into it in the first place. It was kind of ironic, no matter how hard he tried to forget how he'd been brutalized over the years, he could remember every single little detail, but he couldn't even remember how he'd first picked up the habit of drinking his pains away.

Matthew sighed and shut off the water. He got out and dressed himself, not bothering to towel off. He grabbed his wallet and left his hotel room, cringing as he stepped over a prone hooker lying in the middle of the hallway. He hoped that she was still alive, but after all he'd seen, he wasn't going to get his hopes up.

The streets were just as bad as the hotel. How Matthew had found his way here was another mystery that Matthew couldn't unweave from the tangle of mysteries he'd got caught up in. Matthew sighed. Why couldn't life just look at him and say, 'I think he's suffered enough' and throw him a bone or something?

"Ben je op zoek naar een goede tijd schat? _[Are you looking for a good time darling?]_" a feminine voice called to him. Matthew looked over to see a young(?) hooker smiling at him and waving him over.

Matthew debated his options. Go over to the hooker or continue on down the street? Matthew shrugged at himself, a mental 'why the hell not' and walked over to the hooker.

She was young. _Very_ young. Was she even 18? She giggled and smiled up at him, reaching out and taking his hand, babbling away in Dutch. Matthew let himself be dragged through the alley by the little girl. She sure was pretty though, her long strawberry blond hair swishing as she walked. She was dressed promiscuously, and was wearing far too much make up, but Matthew found that he didn't mind so much. He kind of wanted to pull her close and cradle her in his arms. She looked back and smiled at him, sweet pink lips curving upward. Matthew smiled back and she giggled, tugging him along, nearly skipping.

They came to a run down building that looked like it was scheduled for demolition. The girl dragged him inside, chattering the entire time. An old woman came down some dilapidated stairs and shouted in Dutch at the young girl. She shrank into Matthew's side. Matthew managed to catch the word 'Amerikaanse', _American_, and perked up.

"I'm not American, I'm Canadian." he said, pointing to himself, "Canadian, Canadian." he repeated.

The old woman's eyes widened and she fixed a wide, near-toothless smile at Matthew. She gibbered away at Matthew, smiling and beckoning him into what he guessed was one of the nicer rooms. From the way she looked up at him with utter rapture, like she was looking at a God come to earth, Matthew guessed she'd been around when the Canadians had liberated the Netherlands from Germany. He smiled down at her and she giggled, the sound grating and piercing, like she hadn't giggled in a long time.

Within minutes Matthew was being served by three new girls, plus the girl who'd approached him first. One of the girls presented him with a plate of tiny squares, so small you could fit four of them on the face of a dime. The gestured for him to take some, smiling and petting his hair and stroking his arms and shoulders.

Some sort of drug, Matthew guessed. But they were so small that they couldn't possibly do that much harm, could they? Matthew reached over and popped one into his mouth, then another, then one more. There, see? He wasn't feeling bad at all. In fact, he was starting to feel good. A little giggle escaped him and he heard the girls giggle along with him.

Matthew felt amazing. He stood up and began to dance, spinning around and lifting his hands into the air. The girls laughed and jumped up, dancing with him. Their touch felt amazing, everything was so amazing! The room spun and melded into a million vibrant colours. This was so cool! Matthew laughed out loud, watching the colours swirl around him.

Matthew groaned and rolled over. He was naked, but wrapped up in sheets and warm limbs. He sat up and glanced around. He was still in the room, and the girls where still with him, but the room looked like a hurricane had come through it. Their were clothes strewn about, different empty bottles of assorted liquors, and trashed furniture everywhere. Matthew stood up and nearly fell over, vertigo crashing down on him. He regained his footing and looked for his clothes, avoiding stepping on the girls. He brought his foot down in something slick and recoiled fast. He glanced down and gasped.

Blood.

Matthew quickly did a once over of himself. No injuries that he could see, even though his body was aching. He glanced down at the pool again. There was so much there that he was sure that no one could have lived if they lost that much. He glanced at the girls. All breathing. Wait, that one girl, she wasn't breathing. Matthew crouched down by her and pressed to fingers to her neck. Nothing. She was dead.

Matthew sucked in a short breath, his throat tight. Upon further inspection, it looked like she'd bitten off her tongue and drowned in her own blood. Matthew sat back on his heels and let out a shuddering sigh, tears rolling down his face.

It was the young girl who'd first approached him.

**Author Commentary;** Well, this was surprisingly easy to write. Why do I love torturing Matthew so much? Oh well, he'll get better soon, don't worry.


	40. Angel

**Author Commentary;** So, this chapter, I should be doing Alfred's side of the story, but I really want to get on with Mattie's story, so imma just jump right into this chapter with Mattie.

**Title;** Angel

**Characters;** Canada, Prussia, Germany

**Pairs;** GerIta

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Thoughts of suicide, drug abuse, alcoholism, mild yaoi, swearing

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Matthew hurt everywhere. He was hungry, but he felt like he was about to puke. He was so tired, but he couldn't sleep. The inside of his head, the part that was still sane, was screaming at him to drop everything and run to the nearest Canadian Embassy and beg them to send him home to his family, but his body refused to get itself out of the spiral of drugs, booze, and wandering around with no goal in mind.

Matthew was in Germany now. That much he did know. How he got there? Not a clue. What was even stranger was that he found himself perched on the edge of some sort of warehouse rooftop, on the unsafe side of the railings meant to keep people from falling off. He was clinging to the rusted bars, looking down at the city. It was funny, it didn't look much different from Montreal at all. A gust of wind sent Matthew teetering.

He was so tired. Whatever drugs he'd been pumping into his system had taken their toll on Matthew. Along with almost a third of his body weight, he'd lost his sense of time, meaning he had no idea how long he'd been doing this to himself. It could have been a few weeks, a few months, or a few years. He just didn't know anymore.

He knew he wanted it to stop. Permanently.

Matthew let out a sob. He wanted it to stop, to all go away. He wanted to sink into his Dad's arms and be comforted by his harsh, but soothing words. He wanted to eat his Papa's food that made him feel full, even when he was feeling like crap. He wanted to lean into his brother's shoulder and just feel his presence supporting him. But he couldn't go back. He couldn't face them after all that he'd done, all that he'd seen. He'd lost his self respect, his self esteem, and his sense of self. There was no way he could face the people he knew if he didn't even know himself anymore.

Matthew looked up. They sky was dark and stormy, swirling with the promise of heavy rain. Matthew took a deep breath, tasting the moisture in the air. He leaned back, leaning way over the edge, only hanging on by his hands gripping the railing and his feet planted on the very edge of the building. He closed his eyes. If he just relaxed, let go of the railing, and ket his eyes closed, he would feel like he was flying before he was swallowed up into the black abyss.

"Ähm, willst du nach Hause, kleine Engel fliegen? _[Um, are you trying to fly home, little Angel?]_" a voice called.

Matthew jerked back up, clinging to the railing, heart hammering in his chest. Someone was up here with him! Matthew looked around frantically for the source of the voice and quickly spotted him.

It was a man, around Matthew's age. He was pale, _very_ pale. With white hair. It took a moment for Matthew to realize that the man was albino. His gleaming red eyes focussed on Matthew in a slightly dazed looking stare. His skin was nearly as white as his hair, and there was no pigment in the man as far as Matthew could see. He was dressed in shabby jeans and a ruffled T-shirt, but he was clean looking. He had a camera around his neck and a beat up backpack slung over his shoulder. His angular features reminded Matthew of a poster for the _Hitler-Jugend_ circa 1940's he'd seen in a history textbook, suggesting that he would have been Aryan if not for the albinism. He had a strong build, but lean and wiry frame.

"D-Don't come any closer!" Matthew cried, "I'm going to jump and you can't stop me! Restez à l'écart! _[Stay away!]_"

The man blinked out of his daze and dropped his back pack to the ground and put up his hands, "Hey hey now, why don't you come down from there?"

Matthew was a little startled that the man knew English, and spoke it so well, but he shook his head and stayed where he was, "I'm going to jump and you can't stop me! Je ne peux pas vivre comme ça plus! _[I can't live like this anymore!]_"

"Okay okay, you don't have to come down if you don't want to." the man said, "I have no idea what you've been through, so I have no idea why you want to kill yourself, but," he stared into Matthew's eyes, "Do you want something to eat first?"

"What?" Matthew said. The question, perfectly benign in any other situation, was so absurd here that Matthew figured he'd misheard.

"Food. Do you want some? My bruder's 'friend' made some really delicious pasta, but he's Italian right? So he made huge amounts even though there are only three of us. I've got so much leftovers in my lunch today that I'm suspecting that Lutzchen just wants to clean out the fridge. It's kind of a useless exercise though, Feli is just going to fill it up again. And besides, everyone deserves to have a last meal, right?" the man said, getting out a large container of pasta as he spoke. He smiled and held it out for Matthew to see, "Oh, and by the way, you can call my awesome self Gilbert Beilschmidt. What's your name?"

Matthew was so dumbstruck by this odd man that he found himself answering, "Matthew Kirkland-Bonnefoy." who was this guy?

The man, Gilbert, smiled a big toothy grin, "Matthew huh? Cute name. Anyway, do you want some food or not? You look like you haven't eaten in months." he said, opening the container and scooping up a large forkful of pasta. He took a bite and held another forkful out to Matthew as he chewed.

Matthew was dumbfounded, flabbergasted, gob-smacked. His mouth hung open a little and Gilbert took that as an indication that Matthew wanted to be fed. As the forkful of pasta assaulted Matthew's mouth, his stomach complained loudly at him for the neglect. He chewed and swallowed the cold, but still tasty, pasta. Tears started to roll down his face. He hiccuped and leaned closer to the railing, farther from the edge. Gilbert smiled at him and offered him another bite, which Matthew took. By the time the container was empty, Matthew was on the safe side of the railing, sobs wracking his body.

Gilbert sat down next to Matthew, "You going to be okay?" he asked, then smacked himself on the forehead, "Duh, stupid question, you were just trying to kill yourself. I'm an idiot. Okay, we should get you home. Where are you staying?"

Matthew hiccuped, "A motel a few blocks from here. I think." he said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay then, off we go." Gilbert said, grabbing hold of Matthew's hand and tugging him up and off the roof. Matthew blinked as he was tugged along behind Gilbert, who was chattering away, seemingly able to function without pausing for oxygen.

After circling around for some time, they found Matthew's temporary shelter and went up to his room.

"Geez, this place reeks like shit. And Lutzchen says my room is bad. You can't stay here Vogelchen. Why don't you come stay with me for a while? Don't worry, my bruder and his boy toy life with me, so there's no worries about bad touching. Well, technically, my awesome self lives with them, but you know, my awesome self is too awesome for that." Gilbert said, laughing. Actually, it was more like a hissing cackle, "Anyway, lets pack up your stuff and get the fuck out of here."

Matthew's mouth flapped as Gilbert tossed all of his things into his bag and grabbed his hand again. He was like a zombie, an empty shell following blindly behind some stranger. They found a subway station and got there just as the bus was arriving. As they rode across the city in a rocking compartment, Gilbert chattered away to him in English, attracting the stares of the other people on the train. Oddly enough, Matthew found himself not noticing; Gilbert's constant jabbering kept him distracted enough to not even realize that they had just spent a half an hour on a subway train. He talked about everything from his photography to his little brother's first Oktoberfest experience, using the word 'awesome' more liberally than warranted.

When they got off the subway, Gilbert took Matthew up into the street again and into a taxi. When they got out, Matthew found himself in a neighbourhood that could only be described as 'ritzy'. It was a high class neighbourhood with large houses, nearly mansions, all made in the typical German historic architecture. Matthew was sure that every family who lived in these homes had been living there since the homes had been built hundreds of years ago.

Gilbert noticed Matthew looking around, "Yeah it's an old neighbourhood, with lots of rich families. All old money though. A lot of the families who live here can trace their ancestry all the way back to Frederic II of Prussia." he said, grinning. He opened the door and tugged Matthew inside, "Hey Bruder, den ich nach Hause gebracht zu Gast! _[Hey Brother, I brought home a guest!]_" he called into the house.

"Was? Du nach Hause brachte ein Gast? Bitte sagen Sie mir es ist nicht ein anderer Vogel Gilbert. _[What? You brought home a guest? Please tell me it's not another bird Gilbert.]_" replied a deep, gruff voice. A huge, hulking mass of man rounded the corner and Matthew wanted to shrink behind Gilbert. He'd described Gilbert as being perfect for the Hitler Youth if it weren't for his albinism, but this man was even more so the part. Massive, strong, Aryan features, and the trademark light blond hair, slicked back against his head, and icy blue eyes that pinned you to the spot. Those eyes narrowed as they landed on Matthew, "Gilbert, wer das is? Warum hast du ihn hierher gebracht? _[Gilbert, who is this? Why have you brought him here?]_"

Gilbert laughed and waved the man away, "Chill out jüngeren Bruder, dir Sorgen zu viel. Dies ist Matthew Kirkland-Bonnefoy. Ich fand ihn auf dem Dach des Gebäudes Ich werde Bilder von Start war. Er versuchte, sich umzubringen, und ich rettete ihn mit meinen awesome und Ihren Geliebten Pasta. _[Chill out younger brother, you worry too much. This is Matthew Kirkland-Bonnefoy. I found him on the roof of the building I was going to take pictures off of. He was trying to kill himself and I saved him with my awesome and your lover's pasta.]_" he said.

The man went bright red and sputtered, "Er ist nicht mein Geliebter! _[He's not my lover!]_" he shouted, making Matthew jump, "Verwenden Sie weniger englische Begriffe verdammt! _[Use less English terms dammit!]_"

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "Das ist schön Bruder, dieser Junge fast verwandelte sich in einen blutigen Abstrich auf dem Bürgersteig, und du bist mehr Sorgen um meine Wortwahl. Wirklich verdammt taktvoll Ludwig. _[That's nice brother, this boy nearly turned himself into a bloody smear on the pavement, and you're more concerned about my choice of words. Real fucking tactful Ludwig.]_" he growled, tugging Matthew into the handsome house.

The other man sighed, "Leider älterer Bruder, habe ich nicht so gemeint. _[Sorry elder brother, I didn't mean it that way.]_" he said. He glanced at Matthew, eyes softer, more pitying now. Matthew dropped his gaze, feeling his stomach turn over, "Wie lange wird er hier bleiben? _[How long will he stay here?]_"

Gilbert cackled again, but this time it had a softer tone, "Bis zu diesem kleinen Engel nicht versucht, fliegt weg nach Hause nicht mehr. _[Until this little angel doesn't try to fly away home__ anymore.]_"

The blonde man raised an eyebrow at Gilbert, then shook his head and disappeared from sight. Gilbert tugged Matthew up some stairs and into a nice room. The albino finally let go of Matthew and launched himself onto the bed, bouncing a little.

"Sorry about that. My brother is a little paranoid. He got it from our parents, may they rot in pieces." he said with a laugh. He tossed Matthew's bag into a corner, "Anyway, since my awesome self has extended a helping hand to you, you can stay here until you aren't trying to toss yourself off a building. If you need clean clothes, you can come see me in my room. It's at the end of the hall on the left, you won't be able to miss is. So, I'm going to let you get settled in and run you a bath because, no offence man, but you stink just as bad as that room you were staying in. Don't be afraid to ask for anything, my brother may look scary, but he's just got a stick shoved up his ass. If you meet a bubbly little Italian, that's just Feliciano, he's harmless." Gilbert said in one long breath, "Right that bath. I'll come get you in a second, until then, stay away from the window. Lutzchen will beat me with my own spinal cord if I get blood in the garden." another cackle and Gilbert left the room, but not before turning and saying, "Mach dir keine Sorgen Vogelchen, ich bin kümmert euch jetzt. _[Don't worry Birdie, I'm taking care of you now.]_"

As the door closed, Matthew wasn't sure if he'd just been saved, or taken into an entirely knew whirl of chaos. He had a feeling that it was somewhere in the middle.

**Author Commentary;** Wow, long chapter. I'm actually pretty happy with how this came out. And yay Mattie is getting some help finally. Will it work? Or will Gilbert get beating with his own spinal cord?


	41. Coffee

**Author Commentary;** Alrighty, it's time for me to get down to writing Alfred's chapter. Wish me luck.

**Title;** Coffee

**Characters;** America, Russia

**Pairs;** None

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** swearing

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Alfred found himself visiting Little Russia quite often after the first day. He'd always stop by the little coffee shop when he went there, so much so that he became a regular there. The waitress, Yekaterina was her name, but she went by 'Katyusha', always walked up to him with a smile and a coffee ready for him.

Alfred had actually learned a little bit about her (and no he wasn't fishing for info on the tall man). She was Ukrainian, but her little brother and little sister were Russian and Belorussian (he'd asked after that, but the most she'd said was that her family had moved around a lot). Their family name was 'Braginski', but her little sister went by their mother's maiden name, Arlovskaya for some reason. Her brother worked at the flower shop next door and was named Ivan.

When Alfred came into this information, he'd felt the urge to jump up and run on over next door and buy some flowers. He held himself back though, not wanting to seem too eager. The other man entranced him, and he couldn't figure out why. He was the strangest man Alfred had ever seen, and he hadn't even said one word to the man.

One day, Alfred found himself back at the coffee shop after an audition that had gone particularly well. It was packed more than usual and there were literally no seats for Alfred to take. He sighed and was about to turn around and leave when he saw an open seat. It was at a small, two person table, the other seat occupied by none other than Katyusha's brother, scarf still in place around his neck. He kept his gaze on a novel in his hand, glasses perched on his overlarge nose. Alfred checked the entire room again, seeing if there were any other seats. None. He took a deep breath and went to go sit down with the large man.

Large was right. From a distance, you could see that this was a big man, but standing right next to him, alfred felt dwarfed, and that wasn't a feeling he got often. Alfred was probably shorter than him by a good ten centimetres and weighed thirty pounds less. Those intensely violet eyes glanced his way with a slight spark of interest. Alfred beamed at him, using his best megawatt smile.

"Hi there, I'm Alfred F. Kirkland-Bonnefoy. Mind if I sit here?" he asked, indicating to the empty seat across from the giant.

A pale eyebrow was raised at him, but Alfred stayed firm. He waited for maybe a minute before the man gave him a nod. Alfred smiled even bigger and sat down, using his extensive acting talent to not look to eager, "So what's your name?" he asked, still smiling.

Another raised eyebrow, then a sigh, "Ivan Braginski." he said, voice softer then you'd expect. Alfred covered a shiver. Why he felt a shiver at all was anyone's guess.

Alfred leaned over the table, "Cool, you live in this area?"

"Yes." Ivan said, picking up his book again, obviously not interested in Alfred at all.

Alfred masked his disappointment and annoyance, keeping his smile in place, "Sweet, I live a few blocks from here." a non-committal noise from Ivan, "What are you reading?" he asked.

An expression of annoyance flitted over Ivan's face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, "Tolstoy's _War and Peace_." he replied.

Alfred had no idea who that was, "I have no idea who that is." he said.

Ivan sighed, then smiled at him, but it didn't looking very friendly for some reason, "I wouldn't expect you to. He's a Russian writer."

Alfred smiled for another moment before he realized that he'd just been insulted, "Excuse me, what was that first bit?" he said, still smiling, but teeth gritted by now.

Ivan only smiled wider, "I said I wouldn't expect you to, being an American and all." he said, accented words flowing unapologetically from his lips.

Alfred's smile disappeared now, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It mean's you are an uncultured American." Ivan said simply, "There are many days that I regret coming to this country and this city with it's unbreathable air and intolerable and nosy people." he said this without malice in his voice, and with such a light tone that you'd think he was enjoying calling Alfred out.

Alfred snarled, "That's not very nice to say to someone you don't even know."

Ivan chuckled, "Am I wrong? Do you know of any great writers? Or have you been to any ballets in your lifetime? Operas? Read any classic novels?"

Alfred slammed his hand down on the table, "Who the hell are you to judge anyone, Commie scum! I've starred in Shakespearian plays and am an aspiring actor! I breathe culture!"

"Ah, now who is the presumptuous one? Because I am Russian I am Communist?" Ivan said with a small growl, "Ah, and an actor are you? Let me guess, you starred in all the school plays, but you were also on the football team, and girls fawned all over you. You were popular, charismatic, and was voted the most likely to succeed in life. Am I right?" he said.

"Fuck you." Alfred hissed.

Ivan laughed, "So I am right. How amusing."

"I'll show you amusing you little-"

A shriek cut them off. Katyusha was standing a few steps away, a look of fright and shock on her round face. She darted forward and yanked Ivan away. The tall man glanced back at Alfred and smirked. Alfred gave him the finger.

And he still wanted to know more about that Commie bastard dammit.

**Author Commentary;** Short chapter is short, but this is basically just to get the ball rolling between these two. Hope you liked it.


	42. Memories

**Author Commentary;** Ah, so many things have been going on, and I've been very stressed (what with graduation coming up and all), so I may not get these chapters up very quickly. Please bare with me.

**Title;** Memories

**Characters;** Canada, Prussia, Germany

**Pairs; **Mentions of GerIta

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Alcoholism, thoughts of suicide

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Matthew started as the door was flung open, revealing Gilbert. The albino man smiled widely at him, "Bath's ready, go hop in."

Matthew blinked stupidly for a moment before going 'oh' and following Gilbert to the bath room where a modern styled bath was filled with steaming water that smelled a little like herbs or something. Gilbert followed Matthew in and sat down on the toilet lid.

"Sorry Vogelchen, but after what I saw today, I'm not going to leave you alone in a room filled with things you can kill yourself with. Don't worry, I won't peek." he said with a wink, then cackled again.

Matthew flushed. He could see his point, but it was rather embarrassing to be watched over like a small child. Gilbert noticed Matthew shifting uncomfortably and turned away so he could undress. Matthew quickly stripped and jumped into the foggy water. Gilbert turned back around, unable to see any private bit of Matthew due to the bath salts fogging up the water, which was half of the point (the other half being was that Matthew stunk like death). Matthew sat in the water for a moment before reaching for the soaps and a wash cloth.

"Want me to help Vogelchen?" Gilbert asked, still not turning around.

Matthew flushed, "N-no that's fine. You can turn around if you like though."

Gilbert spun around on the seat, grinning at Matthew, "Thanks, I hate not being able to see people when I talk to them. Except for when I'm on the phone. Then it's okay because it's the phone. But actually I like talking face to face more. It's easier you know. Body language or some shit. You get my meaning?"

"Um, sure." Matthew said.

"Right, of course." Gilbert said, grinning, "So where are you from? You speak English like a native, but you switched to French pretty easily, but spoke with a funny accent."

Matthew shifted in the tub and stalled from saying anything while he rinsed himself, "I'm from Canada. My Papa is from France, but I picked up a Quebecois accent when I was living in Montreal." he explained.

"Really? Sweet, I used to live in Canada for a few years. It was nice there. I was only a teen though. After my parents got arrested I got to come back home." Gilbert said.

Matthew started, "Your parents . . . got arrested?" that was a little shocking.

"Yeah they were the ring leaders in a Neo-Nazi organization. They got arrested after they killed a Jewish couple in a hit and run. It was a slip up on their part, but all in all, I'm pretty grateful for it. At least I was allowed to come home. I mean, living with Uncle Fritz was okay, but I always preferred speaking my native language over English, yanno? And it was nice to see little Lutzchen again. It took him a while to get used to me, but he eventually came around." Gilbert explained, his grin softening only a little.

"I . . . I'm so sorry." Matthew said. He really didn't know what to say to that, "That must have been hard to deal with."

Gilbert chuckled and leaned back, "I guess it should have been, but for the most part I just don't let it bother me anymore. I mean, it used to, because you know, you're parents rejecting you for being albino is kind of a big deal right? But I went through that whole emo phase and got over it. I still have scars on my arms from cutting." he said, leaning forward again and rolling up his sleeve to show Matthew several fine lines across his wrist and up his arm.

Matthew blinked. This person . . . he didn't know what to make of him. It was like he was completely at peace with himself, completely confident in who he was, with no apologies for any of his behaviour. Matthew couldn't fathom how that must feel. To be completely happy, with nothing hanging over his head; no guilt, no regrets, nothing. He stared up at Gilbert, amazed that there was even someone out there like this. Gilbert smiled back, white lips pulling back to show white teeth.

"Do I have something on my face, or am I just that good looking?" he asked, throwing back his head to cackle once more. Matthew blushed and stuttered and Gilbert laughed some more, "Sorry sorry, I couldn't resist it. And that blushing face is just too cute! Did you know that albino's can't blush? I find it kind of cool that no one can tell when I'm embarrassed, but it gets a little annoying when you're trying to communicate with you're body you know? I mean, I'm talking to this cutie across from me at a bar, and I'm getting signals so strong that I can almost feel them smacking me in the face, but the chick can't see that I'm blushing like crazy, so she thinks that I'm not really interested and moves on to the next guy. I was so pissed." he said with a laugh.

Matthew nodded; how could this guy go from telling Matthew about how his parents hated him for being who he was to nattering about how it was hard to communicate body language because you couldn't blush. Matthew was about to say something when Gilbert's face softened again.

"So what about you? What's your story. You already know all about my awesome self, but what about you? What makes someone like you want to throw themselves off a building?" Gilbert asked, still smiling, but softer then his grin.

Matthew was about to say, 'It's none of your business.' but he supposed it was sort of Gilbert's business, now that the man had taken him in out of the goodness of his heart and given Matthew a looking into his own scarred heart. Matthew was so tempted to tell Gilbert everything and get it off his chest. He stopped himself. His problems didn't need to be anyone's else's problems, and he shouldn't have to make someone listen to his sob story.

"It's none of your business." Matthew said quietly, turning away from the albino.

Gilbert frowned, but then smiled again, "Okay okay, I won't pry. You're right, it's not my business. Just remember that I'll be here to listen if you want. I know I do a lot of talking, but I can be a pretty good listener when I need to be." he said. He leaned back and put his hands behind his head, "Gonna tell me where you're from at least?"

Matthew didn't say anything for a moment, "I already told you."

"Oh right, Canada. What Province? Or did you tell me that as well? You said you were living in Montreal for a while right?" Gilbert asked.

"Yeah, I grew up in Ontario. I was born in the US though." Matthew said.

Gilbert raised a white eyebrow, "Oh were you? You're family move up north?"

Matthew shook his head, "My brother and I were taken in by our adoptive Papa and Dad when I was five and he was six." he explained, "They lived in Canada together. Still do." Matthew felt guilty talking about his fathers. They must be so worried about him.

"Papa and Dad? So your parents are . . . ?" Gilbert trailed off.

"Yes, they're a same sex couple." Matthew said.

Gilbert gave a nod, "Cool. Gay people are allowed to get married in Canada aren't they?" Matthew nodded, "Right, I knew that. They were one of the first countries to legalize same sex marriage weren't they? Germany doesn't recognize same sex marriage, so that's some bad news for Lutzchen and his boyfriend Feli, but I have confidence in them." he said, grinning.

Matthew couldn't do anything but nod. Gilbert continued to natter away while Matthew washed himself. He half paid attention to the man until he heard a particular name. The name of his school to be exact. Matthew listened a little harder and discovered that he and Gilbert had gone to the same school when they were younger.

"Ach du Scheiße! _[Holy Shit!]_ That's crazy! Fucking small ass world, huh?" Gilbert said when Matthew told him.

Matthew nodded. He had a sudden flash; he was in kindergarten on the first day of school. He looked over to where a bunch of boys a little older than himself were sitting on some steps. Among them was a boy with stark white hair and gleaming red eyes, looking somehow apart from them while being within the group. Matthew had totally forgotten about that boy, but now it all came rushing back to him.

"I saw you." Matthew said, "On my first day of school, I saw you."

"Eh? You did?" Gilbert said, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah. I noticed you first because of your hair and eyes, then because you looked so . . . lonely." Matthew said, looking up at Gilbert and resting his head on his knees.

Gilbert blinked, seemingly stunned. He smiled softly, "Did I look that way? I can't remember much, it was so long ago." he said.

Matthew felt himself smile back a little. He couldn't remember the last time he smiled genuinely; maybe some time before his brother went bulimic. Had it really been that long? Somehow, this little trip down memory lane had lifted a small weight off his chest. It wasn't much in the long run, and he still had so much on his mind, but right now he let himself believe, however foolishly, that he was going to be okay.

**Author Commentary;** This one is a little late coming. I got stuck on a part, then forgot about it, then got really busy.

So, just a heads up; I'm about a month or so away from graduation, so things will be crazy and shit. Therefore, I probably won't update for a while. Just a pre-warning so you guys don't think I died or something.


	43. CoWorker

**Author Commentary;** Holy shit did I ever get caught up in things. I am so sorry to everyone who's been so patiently waiting for the next chapter. I got so caught up in the end of school, graduation, and exams that I didn't have time to write anything. So sorry!

**Title;** Co-worker

**Characters;** America, Russia, Lithuania, Poland

**Pairs;** LietPol

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** mild shonen ai, swearing

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia

Alfred sighed and leaned back in his chair. He was really getting sick of this job. He wanted to catch his big acting break soon, or at least some sort of acting gig. He couldn't pretend to talk on the phone all day.

Feliks glanced over the top of the top of the cubicle, "Oi, you heard?" he whispered.

"Heard what?" Alfred asked, sitting up in his chair.

Feliks grinned, "We're getting fresh meat~!" he sang.

Alfred chuckled, "Oh really? Someone new on the floor? That'll be nice." he said.

Feliks giggled, "Someone to totally boss around and all that junk."

Toris peeked over the wall as well, "Feliks, don't say that. We want to be nice to the new person." he said.

"Psh, maybe you do. I just want a new coffee bitch." Feliks said, laughing and disappearing into his cubicle as Toris scolded him.

Alfred laughed an leaned back in his chair. Someone new eh? This might get interesting. He was hoping for someone hot. Someone small and petite would be nice, someone Alfred could scoop up in his arms and nearly cover entirely. That would be so cute. He hummed and began fantasizing.

As Alfred was picturing a tiny body under his, their boss came by and he straightened, pretending to look really busy. He walked right on by, someone huge following him. Damn, no petite beauties for him. There was some chatter, probably about 'the ropes', then the boss-man walked back to his office. Alfred waited until he was gone, then peeked around the wall of his cubicle to see who the new person was.

And screamed.

Sitting at the very cramped desk and fiddling with the headset they all wore, scarf wrapped around his neck and all (even though it was a scorching +40 outside and humid as hell), was Ivan Braginski. The man who insulted his culture and called him an idiot all in one sitting.

"Kirkland-Bonnefoy! Be quiet or I'll fire your ass!" the boss shouted at him. Alfred snapped his mouth shut and hunched over his desk before Ivan could see him. He took a couple deep breaths. Holy shit! He was working with his enemy! This was a three star movie in the making! He peeked over the edge of the cubicle. Ivan was staring straight at him, an expression of disbelief on his face. He caught Alfred's eyes, then grinned wide, the expression becoming bone-chillingly creepy. Alfred shuddered and ducked down.

"Hey, like W-T-F Al? What's gotten into you?" Feliks asked, reaching over the cubicle wall and poking Alfred in the head with his pink, glittery pen, "You, like, sit on a tack or something?"

"Dude!" Alfred whisper-hissed, flailing his hand s a little, "That's Ivan Braginski!"

"So? You know him?" Feliks asked, looking at Alfred like he'd gone off the deep end.

Alfred shook his head, "We hate each other! We talked once in his sister's café and we nearly killed each other!"

Feliks whistled, "Wow, tough cookies." he said, "Anyway, let me know how it goes!" He said cheerfully before going back to his cubicle.

Alfred groaned and smashed his head off his desk, "Why me?" he whined.

"I wouldn't recommend doing that, you seem like you can't afford to lose anymore brain cells." a voice said from behind him. Alfred let out a (manly) screech and spun around in his chair. Ivan was standing right behind him, way too close for comfort.

"You!" Alfred cried, jumping up from his chair, pointing dramatically at Ivan, the tip of his finger almost touching his overlarge nose.

Ivan huffed and slapped the finger away, "Me?" he said, grinning that creepy grin again, "It is nice to see you again Alfred. I was beginning to miss you at the Кафе _[café]_." he said.

Alfred couldn't think of anything to say. What the hell? Where was the guy who insulted everything about him and who was this smily creeper? Ivan grinned wider at him and leaned down. Alfred's mind snapped back into action and he gave Ivan a shove.

"What the hell man? Personal space! Seriously!" he said, shoving Ivan in the chest. His hands made contact with a solid 'thump'. What the hell was this guy made of?

Ivan giggled (fucking giggled!) and moved back, "I look forward to working with you Мой друг _[my friend]_." he said, then went back to his desk.

Alfred gaped. What. The. Fuck? What the hell just happened? One minute his life was fine and dandy, and now it was the perfect B-movie plot line!. He glanced around for any camera's hidden from view, wondering if he'd wandered onto some dumb set by mistake. Toris glanced at him and gave a quizzical look.

"Alfred? Are you okay? Is this about your brother again?" he asked.

Alfred blinked. Matthew. He hadn't spared him a thought in so long, not since he found 'Little Russia' and began his new obsession. He sighed and returned to his desk, "No, it's not about Mattie Toris." he said.

Toris gave him a sympathetic look, "You sure? Have you heard anything from him at all? It's been so long."

alfred smiled a little sadly, "Yeah it has, and no, we haven't heard a thing." he sighed again, "I wish he would send us something to tell us he's alive at least."

"Bummer." Toris said. He smiled a little and reached over the cubicle to pat Alfred on the back, "Cheer up though, I'm sure he's fine. He just needed a little break is all. Sometimes we all need a break. Who knows, maybe he's falling in love with beautiful girl right now and when he comes back, you'll have a brand new sister-in-law!"

Alfred laughed, "If he did that, I'm sure Dad would have a heart attack!"

They both laughed, then returned to their work. Alfred tried to keep his mind straight, but he couldn't focus on anything. When he was trying to work, all he could think of was his brother, and when he tried to take a break, he could see that damn Russkie from where he was sitting. When it was finally time to go home, Alfred was emotionally drained. All he wanted was to go back to his apartment and sleep. Alfred got down to the ground floor and looked around for a taxi.

"I did not know you have a brother." came an increasingly familiar voice.

Alfred growled and turned, glaring at Ivan, "What do you want?" he grumbled.

Ivan chuckled and smiled, "Nothing." he said.

Alfred felt his eyebrow twitch, "Then why are you bothering me?" gosh, he felt like Arthur, being so sour like this.

Ivan giggled again, then smiled widely, sending chills up Alfred's spine, "Because it is fun, and I am bored."

Alfred paused. He gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath. _"I will not freak out, I will not freak out, I will not freak out."_ he chanted to himself.

"**What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking freak!"**

Well, so much for that.

Ivan laughed heartily, whipping tears out of his eyes, "Ах вы, американцы, так интересно. Если бы не ваши неприятны поведения, вы бы так мило. _[Oh, you Americans are so entertaining. If not for your obnoxious behaviour, you would be so cute.]_"

"English please!" Alfred cried.

Ivan only giggled a little more, "I will see you my friend. Я надеюсь, больше развлечений завтра. До свидания!_[I hope for more entertainment tomorrow. Good bye!]_" he called, waving as he walked away.

Alfred stood there, positively fuming. What the fuck was wrong with that guy? He shook his head and hailed a taxi. He really hoped he got an acting job soon, otherwise this would be nothing short of unadulterated hell.

**Author Commentary;** I fail. I'm so sorry guys.


	44. Healing

**Author Commentary;** Summer vacation is here, so hopefully I'll have more time to write.

**Title;** Healing

**Characters;** Canada, Prussia, Germany, Italy

**Pairs;** GerIta, mentions of FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** shounen-ai, mentions of past trauma

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Matthew looked out the window, watching the rain pelt the glass and race down the pane to the sill. He let out a sigh. It had been several weeks since he'd come to live with Gilbert and his brother Ludwig. For the most part things had been quiet, with Matthew barely leaving the room given to him by Gilbert (he avoided calling it 'his' room). He mostly only left to get food and when Gilbert dragged him out to 'socialize', though there wasn't a whole lot of people to socialize with. Matthew closed his eyes as he remembered meeting the third person who regularly visited this house.

_Matthew blinked, peering around the corner of the hall at the strange man talking animately to Ludwig in rapid Italian. That must be Feliciano, Ludwig's Italian boyfriend. Matthew had recently learned that they'd been in the same class in kindergarten, and that was how Ludwig knew him, through Gilbert, who had baby sat for Feliciano and his brother._

_Feliciano gave one last giggle and flounced down the hallway toward Matthew. Their eyes locked and the copper-haired man stopped directly in front of Matthew. Matthew got his first good look at him._

_Feliciano Vargas was on the small side, with tanned skin and copper hair. Amber brown eyes peered curiously at him. He was fashionable at least, and knew what looked good on him. He had a sweet face, which went well with his slender body._

_Feliciano blinked, staring at Matthew. Matthew stared back. He was at least a head and a half taller than him, but probably weighed the same. Matthew was the first to look away. He said nothing to the other man and returned to his room, ignoring pleas in Italian to stop and say something._

Matthew opened his eyes. That was the first time he'd come face to face with Feliciano, but it took several more meetings for them to start speaking to one another. That first conversation had been an experience in itself.

"_H-hey, aspetta un momento!_ [Hey, wait a moment!]_ Wait a second please!" Feliciano called, darting after Matthew. It had been a week since they first saw each other, and Matthew had yet to say a word, though Feliciano had tried to talk to him on several occasions, "Please wait just a moment!"_

_Matthew stopped. The last few times he'd returned to the room he stayed in out of shyness, but he supposed that it would be rude to continue doing it. He turned around and waited for Feliciano to say what he wanted to say._

_Feliciano stared up at Matthew for a moment, eyes wide. Matthew began to fidget under the puppy like gaze._

"_Um, would you like me to make you some pasta?" Feliciano finally asked._

_Matthew balked. Was that something you normally asked a damaged house mate of your lover? Then again, Matthew had been subject to strange questions at odd times a lot lately._

_Feliciano seemed to shift and fidget as Matthew stood there staring at him, "Y-you look so magro, so skinny, that I thought you might want some food." he said, looking up at Matthew._

_Matthew blinked, then smiled a little. He'd only just met him, but Matthew could tell that Feliciano was a very pure and kind hearted. He nodded at his request. Feliciano lit up like a Christmas tree._

"_Really? __Questo è fantastico!_[That's great!]_ What would you like? Spaghetti? Ravioli? Linguini?"_

_Matthew blinked, "Um, spaghetti I guess." he said._

_Feliciano giggled, "You finally spoke to me!" he said happily._

_Matthew thought about that for a moment, "Yeah, I guess I did." he said, smiling a little again._

_Feliciano smiled brightly and tugged him by the hand into the kitchen. Matthew found himself smiling along minutely._

Matthew hummed to himself at the memory. Feliciano had taken a quick liking to him and made him food whenever he came over. They would chat while Feliciano cooked and Feliciano would always comment on how thin Matthew still was.

Matthew was jerked from his musings when his door slammed open, revealing the resident loud albino with an ego problem.

"Hey Birdie! What are you doing sitting up here all day! Come down and socialize!" Gilbert shouted, a cheery grin on his face.

Matthew smiled softly and stood, "Sure, why not?"

Gilbert grinned wider, "That's the spirit Birdie! Now come on! Feli's over!"

Matthew chuckled and followed Gilbert down the stairs, listening to the constant chatter that seemed to be paired with the albino like peanut butter to jam. He was glad that he was starting to turn himself around a little. It felt good to be getting a little better. He still had his bad days though, and when he had a bad day, he really had a bad day.

"_Don't come any closer! __Si vous rapprocher je vais le faire! Je me tuer!_[If you come closer I'll do it! I'll kill myself!]_" Matthew shouted, holding the knife against his throat._

_Gilbert stayed a healthy distance away, but close enough to lunge if Matthew tried to kill himself. He put his hands up to show he wasn't trying anything. Ludwig stood behind him, looking very concerned._

"_Now now Birdie, calm down, you don't really want this." Gilbert soothed, obviously trying to stay calm._

"_No!__Je suis fatiguée! Je suis malade! Je ne le faire non plus! _[I'm so tired! I feel sick! I can't do it anymore!] _I can't live like this anymore!" Matthew screamed, shaking his head, tears rolling down his face. The knife point scratched his neck and made small cuts that trickled blood._

_Gilbert clenched his teeth, but relaxed after a moment, "Vogelchen, Birdie, please, don't do this. Don't throw your life away."_

_Matthew hiccoughed, "I have nothing. My life is worthless. I've done nothing with it." he said, sniffling._

"_Oh Birdie, that's not true." Gilbert said, eyes softening._

"_How would you know? You know nothing about me!" Matthew cried, shaking his head again._

_Gilbert, surprising Matthew into freezing, marched over and took Matthew's face into his calloused and scarred hands, forcing him to look straight into those hard pools of crimson._

"_But I do know Birdie. I do. I can see it when you have that far away look in your eyes. I see that you're thinking about the people you left behind, the ones you wish you could go back to, but are too scared to. I see how much pain you're in. I can see that you love them, and that you know that they love you back. That is your reason to stay alive. Those people who you love and love you back. It's for those people that you have to stay alive." Gilbert relaxed his grip a little and stroked Matthew's cheek with his thumb, "They love you Matthew, they would never wish for you to take your life this way."_

_Matthew stared into Gilbert's eyes, which stared right back into his. He felt hot tears sting his eyes and clenched them shut, hiccoughing and sobbing._

"_Why? Why do they love me? Someone like me? Why?" he choked out, gasping for air._

_Gilbert gently wrapped Matthew in a firm, but not tight, embrace, gently rubbing his back, "They love you because they do. There's no other explanation. They love you because you are Matthew." he said quietly._

_Matthew broke down into sobs, knees buckling. Gilbert gently guided them to the floor, taking the knife from Matthew and putting it out of reach. He soothed Matthew and held his trembling form, still rubbing up and down his back. Matthew felt himself being picked up and carried out of the kitchen. He clung to Gilbert's shirt and clenched his eyes shut tightly. He felt himself being sat down on the couch, but he still refused to open his eyes. Through his sobs he could here Ludwig and Gilbert talking in German._

"_Er hat Gilbert go! Er kann nicht hier bleiben. Was passiert, wenn er gelingt endlich, sich zu töten, was werden wir sagen, die Polizei? Werden sie fragen, warum wir nicht schickt ihn in eine Anstalt. Sie werden denken, wir entführt und tötete ihn oder so! _[He has to go Gilbert! He can't stay here. What happens when he finally manages to kill himself, what will we tell the police? They'll ask why we didn't send him to an institution. They'll think we kidnapped him and killed him or something!]_" Ludwig's baritone voice rumbled angrily._

"_Beruhigen Ludwig. Wir können nicht einfach senden die Jungen weg, hat er keine Staatsbürgerschaft hier. Außerdem würde das, was er denken? Uns schickte ihn wie ein kranker Hund, den wir nicht wollen. Er ist nicht etwas, das wir nur werfen kann weg, wenn sie störend sindihn haben um sich. Wenn wir ihn danach in ein Anstalt, wird er __nur noch schlimmer. _[Calm down Ludwig. We can't just send the boy away, he has no citizenship here. Besides, what would he think? Us sending him off like a sick dog we don't want. He's not something that we can just throw away when it becomes inconvenient to have him around. If we put him in an Institution, he'll just get worse.]_" Gilbert hissed, arms squeezing Matthew tightly to him chest. "Ich nicht aufgeben Vogelchen zu Fremden. _[I will not abandon Birdie to strangers.]_"_

_Ludwig growled and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Du bist zu tief wieder älteren Bruder. Sie dies die ganze Zeit. Du wirst mit etwas besessen werden, und es wird Sie verbrauchen. _[You're in too deep again older brother. You do this all the time. You'll become obsessed with something and it will consume you.]_"_

_Gilbert scoffed. He looked down at Matthew, still crying and shivering in his arms, "Es ist mir egal. _[I don't care.]_"_

_Ludwig shook his head again and left the room, leaving Matthew and Gilbert alone to calm down._

Matthew shivered at the memory, but shook the thoughts away. He was getting better. He was getting better. He repeated this mantra in his head several times, trying to convince himself that it was the truth. He hoped with all his heart that it was the truth.

**Author Commentary;** Wow, sorry this took so long. Things actually got kind of busy, believe it or not. Anyway, hope you liked it.


	45. CoExisting

**Author Commentary;** Heyo! Just me with another chapter. I'm sort of stuck on inspiration for this chapter, but I'll do my best.

**Title;** Co-Existing

**Characters;** America, Russia, England, France, Lithuania, Poland

**Pairs;** FrUK, LietPol

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Swearing, shounen-ai

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Hell.

That was what Alfred felt like he was in the middle of.

Pure, shameless, hell.

Since Ivan started working with them, Alfred had been the victim of several 'pranks' at the hands of the huge Russian. Everything from pens going missing to all his documents getting written on with sharpie. He'd already been reprimanded for yelling at the Russian twice, and one more time might get him fired. And Ivan was getting away with all of this crap! Whenever confronted, Ivan would pull this irritating 'I'm so innocent I have no idea what you're talking about' act and would wiggle his way past any kind of punishment. Alfred felt like he was back in high school.

Alfred gritted his teeth as he heard the tell-tale giggle behind him.

"_What the hell kind of grown man giggles? Especially someone that size! It's ridiculous!"_ Alfred thought as he dug through his drawer for a pencil. His fingers brushed a piece of paper. He groaned to himself and pulled it out. It was a small note, folded neatly in half, and it was pink for some reason. Alfred opened it and read;

_моргала выколю, падла_

Alfred growled and glared at the Russian letters, as if they would magically become English and reveal their message to him. He crumpled the note and tossed it into his trash bin. He turned back to his desk and tried to focus.

Alfred gritted his teeth and took the note from the trash. He uncrumpled it and stared at it some more. He was about to toss it again when he remembered Toris saying he could speak Russian.

Brightened by his genius, Alfred stood and peaked over the side of the stall. Toris was hunched over his desk, scribbling down numbers he needed to call. Alfred poked him in the back of the head with his pen and he looked up.

"Can I help you Alfred?" He asked, looking a little confused.

"You can speak Russian right?" Alfred asked, a grin on his face.

Toris raised an eyebrow, "No, not really. I can read Russian though. Why?"

Alfred grinned wider; perfect, "I need you to translate this for me." he said, thrusting the paper in front of Toris's nose.

Toris blinked and took the pink slip of paper. His eyes scanned it, widening, "Alfred, this is so mean!" he hissed.

"What, what does it say!" Alfred cried, eager to know so he could retaliate properly.

"It says, 'I will poke your eyes out, f-fucker'." Toris said, struggling over the last word, unused to swearing.

Alfred stared at Toris for a moment, then erupted into an internal volcano of rage.

"A-Alfred, please! Calm down! Do you want to be fired?" Toris hissed, physically holding Alfred back from lunging at the Russian, who was calmly sitting at his desk, whistling what sounded like the Tetris theme to himself.

Alfred growled, "I don't care! He's going down!" he cried, struggling to get free.

"F-Feliks! Help!" Toris cried, being dragged across the carpeted floor of the hall. Feliks looked up from his nails and sighed. He got up and flounced over to them. He poked Alfred in the cheek.

"You know, you're going to get totally sacked if you try and take him out you know." he said, after getting Alfred's attention.

"I don't care!" Alfred shouted.

"Feliks!" Toris cried, "Help me!"

"Uspokój, mam to wszystko pod kontrolą. _[Calm down, I've got this __all under control.]_" Feliks said in Polish, waving Toris away. He turned back to Alfred, "Listen, Alfred my dear dear friend, you're letting this Braginski guy get to you. If you let him get to you, you're totally going to flip your lid. If you flip your lid, the boss man is going to, like, sack you and stuff. If you get sacked, then that means that Braginski wins and you're out of a job!" he finished dramatically.

Alfred thought about it for a moment, then gasped, "You're completely right!" he exclaimed, "I can't let that Commie bastard get to me! Thank you Feliks!" he said, grabbing hold of Feliks hand and shaking it vigourously.

Feliks grinned and tossed his hair, "Like, anytime Al." he said.

Alfred grinned widely and went back to his desk. From across the hallway, Ivan glowered, having been deprived of his fun. His icy eyes were turned on Toris and Feliks, and Toris felt his stomach plunge. Somehow, he felt like his life was over.

At the end of the week, Alfred staggered down to the parking lot to his car. He didn't know if he could take much more of this. After the little fiasco earlier in the week, Ivan had doubled his attempts to get a rise out of him. Alfred would like to pride himself in keeping his cool through most of the taunts, pranks, and little notes with death threats on them, but keeping up with them while still doing work was exhausting. Alfred sighed and was about to open his car when he felt a chill run up his spine. He glared at nothing in particular and turned around.

"Привет друг! _[Hello friend!]_ How nice to see you again!" Ivan said cheerfully, scarf still in place around his neck.

Alfred gritted his teeth together, "What do you want?" he growled.

Ivan had the nerve to look innocent, "Why Alfred, you say this as if you suspect me of engaging in foul play. I am hurt." he said.

It was illegal to murder people, no matter how annoying, Alfred reminded himself, "Whatever, I'm leaving." he said, opening his car door.

A hand clamped down on his arm and spun him around. Alfred found himself pinned to the hood of his car by roughly 82 kg of flesh, bone, and muscle. His startled blue eyes stared up into unreadable violet ones. Despite himself, Alfred felt himself shiver and perspire. As much as he tried to deny it, Ivan Braginski was a huge amount of man to face alone.

Ivan grinned down at him, "Мой друг, я считаю, вы отталкивающим. Вы отвратительное пятно на лицо мира, как и вашей стране. И все же я считаю себя обращается к вам, тоска по тебе. . . Вы действительно тошно смотреть. Я жажду вашей смерти. _[My friend, I find you repulsive. You are a disgusting blot on the face of the world, just like your country. And yet I find myself drawn to you, yearning for you. . . You truly are sickening to behold. I yearn for your demise.]_" he said, the Russian syllables rolling off his tongue like marbles, hitting Alfred in the face.

Alfred stiffened at the words he couldn't decipher. Still, he had a feeling they weren't very nice, despite the cheery tone Ivan had delivered them in. He shoved the larger man off him and quickly got into his car. He started his car and drove away. In his rear view mirror he could see Ivan smiling and waving him good bye, as though they were old friends. Alfred clenched his teeth and gripped the steering wheel so hard the seams dug into his palms.

In his mind he damned himself for wanting to hear more of those foreign, almost lyrical Russian words in that sweet-as-honey/sharp-as-a-knife voice.

**Author Commentary;** Well, this came out very well. I promised myself I would start writing longer chapters, but I can't seem to make myself do it.


	46. Scars

**Author Commentary;** I actually had a lot of fun with the last chapter. Anyway, we're back to Mattie and his story. Is he getting better, or is he tumbling into more self harm?

**Title;** Scars

**Characters;** Canada, Prussia

**Pairs;** Mentions of GerIta

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** mild shounen-ai, past trauma, angst

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia

Matthew lay on his side on the bed, staring into nothing. In the last few weeks, he'd gone through cycles of being semi-functional and near-catatonic. Right now he was in one of his depressed states, refusing food, not talking, not doing anything. Ludwig had no time or patience for Matthew when he was like this, but Feliciano and Gilbert tried to see him everyday to try and cheer him up. After a while it worked and he got better for a while. When he was in his better moods, he smiled a little and even laughed here and there. Sometimes he even went out into the city with everyone. Then he began to question himself again and fell into another depression.

Matthew sighed and pressed his face into the pillow. Just thinking about it all made him depressed. His past and the things he'd done weighed heavily on his shoulders, so much so that it felt like he was suffocating. He couldn't talk about it because he'd long ago built a dam in his throat to stop himself from blurting everything out and rupturing his happy, perfect family. He could only imagine the way his Fathers' would put everything on hold for him, and the way Alfred would blame himself for everything. He could possibly do that to them. He couldn't possibly be that selfish.

The door opened and Gilbert walked in, "Hey Birdie, how are you feeling today?" he asked, smiling as usual.

Matthew glanced at him, but said nothing and went back to staring at nothing.

"Still not good, eh?" Gilbert said with a chuckle. He pulled up the chair beside Matthew's bed and sat down on it, "Did I ever tell you about the time I broke my leg in six places?"

This was Gilbert's tactic; he would tell Matthew funny stories, jokes, or other light-hearted things until Matthew got better again. Matthew appreciated the effort that Gilbert put in, but he also felt guilty. Gilbert had a life of his own to live, but he was wasting it trying to fix Matthew's. The thought of it made Matthew want to curl up and die.

"-and that's why my ankle clicks when I move it back and forth. Isn't that crazy?" Gilbert asked, cackling his strange laugh. Matthew remained unmoved on the bed. Gilbert sighed and seemed to deflate in the chair. He ran a hand through his white hair, "I'm trying hard Birdie, I really am, but I have no idea how to make you better." he said, voice uncharacteristically quiet and sombre.

Matthew turned his eyes to the older man. He felt a little crack form in the dam in his throat, "Then why are you trying?" he blurted out.

Gilbert met his eyes, "Because . . . I just couldn't leave you to die." he said.

The crack opened up into a fissure, "Why? Why couldn't you just . . . turn away?"

Gilbert smiled sadly at him, "Because it would have been a waste."

"A waste of what?"

"A good life."

Matthew felt a surge of anger. The dam in his throat broke into fragments; he felt everything boiling over, exploding within him, bursting to get out. He let out a dry, clipped laugh, "'A good life'? Are you fucking kidding me? My life has been nothing but someone stepping all over me, one after the other." He said, sitting up, "Do you have any idea what it's like? Do you know the feeling of waking up each morning and fearing your own parents? Do you know what it's like to be ripped away from everything you've ever loved and tortured by the thought of never seeing them again? Do you know what it's like to watch the person closest to you waste away and know that it's your fault? Do you have any idea what it's like to be pinned to a stinking dumpster and _raped_? **_Do you have any idea what that's like?_**" Matthew finished, screeching.

In a rage, Matthew grabbed the nearest thing, the bedside lamp, and threw it as hard as he could at the wall. It exploded into a million pieces with a loud shatter, "**_YOU HAVE KNOW IDEA WHAT MY LIFE HAS BEEN LIKE!_**" he screamed a final time.

Gilbert stared, astonished, at Matthew, who was panting from exertion. He blinked a few times and his gaze softened. He reached forward and tucked a stray lock of hair back behind Matthew's ear. Matthew gave him a confused look, but Gilbert smiled sadly at him.

"I do now." he said, ruby eyes swimming with sadness, sympathy, and understanding.

Matthew stared back into those eyes, feeling his own sting with saline salt water. The last of the dam crumbled away and Matthew felt his agony surface. Letting out a loud wail, Matthew felt the tears of pain and desperation from the time he was born spill from his eyes. He felt Gilbert's arms encircle him and he sobbed into the warm shoulder, clenching the black T-shirt in his hands. Gilbert didn't seem to mind that his shirt was now soaked with tears and snot, he just petted Matthew's hair and murmured soothing words in German. Matthew cried for what seemed like hours. When it felt like there were no more tears in Matthew's body left to cry, he launched into his story. He told Gilbert everything, sparing no detail, no guilty thought, nothing.

Finally, once Matthew finished, still clinging to Gilbert, he let out another laugh, "That's my life. My sorry excuse for a life. I've been abused, used, raped, tortured, forgotten, accused, beaten, burned, kicked, stepped on, punched, and stabbed in the back." he said. He hiccoughed, "What person could stand all of that and not want to die?"

Gilbert gently gripped Matthew's chin with his index finger and thumb and tilted his head so they were looking into each other's eyes. He smiled down at him, "You could, and you will." was all he said.

Matthew stared up into the twin rubies. It was like everything that had ever happened to Matthew had melted away and no longer mattered. Matthew let out a long sigh and closed his irritated eyes. As his exhausted body gave out on him, the last thing Matthew was aware of was the warmth of Gilbert's body and gentle sound of his steady breathing.

**Author Commentary;** I can't believe how easy this was to write.


	47. Postcard

**Author Commentary;** Another chapter, written because there was nothing else to do and I decided to stop procrastinating.

**Title;** Postcard

**Characters;** America, England, France

**Pairs;** FrUK

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** shounen-ai, swearing

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Alfred was almost at the end of his rope. Ivan's little 'game' had been going on for several weeks. It was mostly a smattering of little pranks, like usual, but their were times when Ivan would get him alone, corner him, and say things to him in his native language. The words were haunty and laced with and edge of danger, but Alfred found himself straining to hear every syllable. It was maddening to hear each word and not be able to understand any of it. Alfred needed to get out of here. He needed to get an acting job, and soon.

Speaking of which, Alfred was on his way to an audition. It was a small production, C-list at least, but Alfred was looking for anything to get him off the ground and into the acting scene.

"So, Mr. Kirkland-Bonnefoy, what have you got for us today?" the Producer, a scruffy, unwashed looking man with curly dark hair, asked him, staring at Alfred on stage over his bottle-bottom sunglasses.

"Well, I'm going to try out for the male lead." Alfred said. He had confidence, but it was always better not to come off as an arrogant person.

The Producer let out a hum, "You realize that the male lead is a British man, right? Can you even do a British accent?"

Alfred grinned; too easy, "Yes, I can. My Dad is British."

A raised eyebrow from the Producer, "Well, show us what you've got." he said, leaning back in the chair.

Alfred smiled and flipped through the script. He chose a few good lines and cleared his throat. As he launched into the lines, putting the emotions of the character into his head, he felt them fill his body, stripping anything else away, leaving him only as Mark G. Smith, a young man fresh off the streets of London, trying to find out where his absentee Father had run to, leading him on a journey to America, falling in love with the beautiful Emily Faul. He put his whole body into motion as he spoke, acting and reacting as if the other characters were talking back to him. His British accent was flawless of course. He finished by walking out of the 'room' and slamming the imaginary door. Alfred let the character slip away and wandered back to the centre of the stage.

"So? What did you think?" he asked, grinning his mega-watt smile.

The Producer gave him another look over the top of his sunglasses, "What you just did, whatever energy you used for it, I want you to bottle it and bring it back on the 24th, got it?"

Alfred smiled even wider, "Thank you! I will indeed!" he said.

Alfred walked to his car, a grin on his face. Finally! His big acting break! He could almost taste that Oscar. He sighed dreamily and shoved his things into the back seat of his car. As he drove home, he quickly checked his phone. 27 texts and 18 missed calls, all from the same number.

"_Holy crap, someone really wants to talk to me."_ he thought, putting his phone down for now. He'd tried texting while driving once and nearly run over a cat. Being the critter lover that he was, Alfred had never texted while driving ever again, and donated half his pay that month to the local animal shelter.

Alfred pulled into his parking space and started to pack his things up to his apartment. After fiddling with his key, Alfred dumped his things in the hallway and went to the living room to numb his brain with mindless television. He flipped open his phone again and took a look through the texts. They were all from his father's, which was surprising, since they didn't usually text him.

_alfred call s back asap_

_alfred where are yo?_

_alfred we need to tblk_

_gd dammit alfred pibk up the phone_

Alfred chuckled a little at the shoddy text messages. He figured most of them were like this. He dialled his Dad's number and pressed the phone to his ear, listening to the ring as the call tried to go through.

"Yes? What is it?" Arthur's voice snapped through the phone line.

"Gee Dad, that's something every child wants to hear from his Dad when he calls, thanks." Alfred said sarcastically.

"Alfred! Where the bloody hell have you been? You're Papa and I have been calling you for hours!" Arthur shouted. Alfred detected a slight tone of desperation in his voice.

"I was at an audition. I finally managed to get a part!" Alfred said excitedly. There was a noise of congratulations from Arthur, and Alfred sighed, "So what's so important that you needed to call me?" he asked, knowing that it must be something big. In truth he was nervous about what it might be.

"We got a postcard." Arthur said, elation touching his voice a little.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, "A postcard?" he asked.

"It's from you're brother. Matthew sent us a postcard."

Alfred nearly fell out of his chair, "Holy shit! Fuck, did he really? Shit, what does it say? Is he okay? Has he called?"

"God dammit Alfred stop swearing!"

"You swear all the time!"

"I'm an adult!"

"So am I!"

"I'm you're father!"

"Papa doesn't care!"

"He bloody well better care! Francis!" Arthur called on the other end of the line. Alfred could hear a muffled argument and rolled his eyes. Arthur came back after a moment, "Whatever, it's not important right now. You're brother sent us a postcard! He's alive!"

Alfred felt himself sigh deeply, letting the knowledge sink into him. A terrible ache of uncertainty in his heart quelled, and he nearly started crying.

"The postcard is from Germany, though I haven't a clue how he managed to get himself all the way to Germany. There's no return address or anything, but it's definitely Matthew's writing, I'd recognize that scratchy cursive anywhere." Arthur said, speaking like a man who had studied every inch of the postcard, searching for any clues like a man dying of thirst searches for water.

"What does it say?" Alfred asked, once he gained some composure.

"All that it says is 'I'm doing okay. Matthew'." Arthur said, "It isn't much, but at least we know that he's alive."

"And that he's in Germany. Or has been to Germany." Alfred said.

"Yes, that too." Arthur said. There was s sigh over the phone, then fabric shifting, Arthur had probably sat down on his favourite chair, "I'm too old for this kind of thing. My heart just can't take this kind of stress anymore." he said.

"Don't say that Dad, you aren't that old." Alfred said. "Getting a little grey maybe."

"Oh belt up brat."

Alfred chuckled, "Yes Dad." he said, "Can I talk to Papa?"

"Just a moment." Arthur said. There were more shifting sounds, a muffled call, and then the crackle of the phone being passed to someone else.

"Alfred mon cher, I take it you've heard the good news?" Francis's lyrical voice floated through the line.

"I have Papa. I can't believe it. He's okay!"

Francis chuckled, "Nor can I. You have . . ." their was a choking noise, "You have no idea how devastated I've been since your brother went missing. Je n'ai pas pu bien dormir la nuit depuis le jour où j'ai entendu qu'il était parti. _[I haven't been able to sleep soundly at night since the day I heard he was gone.]_" Francis said. Alfred quietly listened as his Papa tried to contain his grief and relief that Matthew was okay.

Francis gave one last sniff, then let out a sigh, "How long has it been since Matthew disappeared, anyway?" he asked.

"Almost a year and a half I think." Alfred said, jarring himself. Had it really been that long? Had he really seen neither hide nor hair of his little brother in so long?

"Mon Dieu, le temps a passé bien vite. _[My God, the time has passed quickly.]_" Francis mumbled to himself, "Well, a postcard with a note isn't much I suppose, but it's something, and we should be grateful for that."

Alfred smiled, "Yeah."

Francis chuckled over the line, "I suppose I should leave you to your business. You work later tonight, don't you?"

Alfred nodded, forgetting that he was on the phone and Francis couldn't see him, "Yeah, I switched my shift to later tonight so I could go to an audition. Which, by the way, I nailed."

"Oh did you? Did you get the part ma petite colombe de scène? _[my little stage dove?]_" Francis asked, seemingly glad to move on to a lighter subject.

"Oh, you know, I just got the male lead and such. No big deal." Alfred said mock-casually.

"That is wonderful Alfred! Je suis très fier de vous! _[I'm so proud of you!]_"

Alfred grinned, "The audition sheet called for a British guy, but, as you know, my British accent is top notch." he said, saying the last bit in his best accent.

Francis laughed on the other end, "Oh mon oiseau moqueur à peu, je'taime tellement. _[Oh my little mockingbird, I love you so much.]_"

Alfred smiled, "I love you too Papa."

Francis let out a hum, "Thank you Alfred." he said. There was a bit of a pause, "Well, I should leave you to the rest of your day. Adieu mon fils. _[Good bye my son.]_"

"Bye Papa. Give Dad a hug for me, kay?" Alfred said.

Francis chuckled again, "I will, and so much more~."

"Ew, hanging up." Alfred said. Francis's laughter was the last thing he heard as he snapped his phone shut.

He stared at the little contraption for a moment before setting it down. His heart raced, he felt dizzy, and his palms felt clammy. He crossed the room and opened the grimy window. After making sure that it wouldn't fall down on him, he stuck his head out. For a moment, he just stayed there, breathing in the thick city air. Then he opened his mouth and let out a loud shout, one that came from the very depths of his being, resonating out over the city in a booming echo, scaring some pigeons from their roost.

"**My brother is alive!"**

**Author Commentary;** I'm quite pleased with this chapter.


	48. Future

**Author Commentary;** The last chapter was a good one wasn't it? Especially since I've been such an evil bitch to you for so long :D Anyway, I just started a new job, so I'll have a little less time to write (though, it's not like I write much in the first place, derp). Enough with my chit-chat, time for the story!

**Title;** Future

**Characters;** Canada, Prussia, Germany, Italy

**Pairs; **GerIta

**Rating; **T

**Warnings;** shounen-ai

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

"You did the right thing Birdie."

Was what Gilbert said as he and Matthew walked away from the post office. Matthew smiled softly at him and Gilbert flashed his own smile back. They walked back to the car, Ludwig in the driver's seat, Feliciano in the passenger seat. Gilbert and Matthew slid into the back and Ludwig started the engine.

"I just hope it gets to them." Matthew said. He couldn't imagine how worried his family must be about him.

Gilbert grinned, "I'm sure you've got nothing to worry about."

"Yeah!" Feliciano chirped, turning in his seat to look at Matthew, "Don't be so down Mattie!"

"If you followed the proper mailing procedure, your postcard should be mailed correctly." Ludwig said.

Matthew smiled, "Thanks everyone." he said.

Matthew relaxed back into the seat and stared out the window. It had been so long since he'd run away. He'd spent a full eight months wandering around Europe, drunk out of his mind, and after that, another seven months in a depressed spiral. For the last three months, he'd been healing. After he'd burst, Gilbert had helped him wade through all of his problems, helping him deal with the emotional and physical scars.

"Birdie? Hey, Birdie?" Gilbert called, poking Matthew in the side of the head, "Earth to Birdie. Come in Birdie, report to the Mother Ship."

Matthew blinked and jerked up in his seat, "I'm sorry, what?" he asked.

"We're stopping for some food, you want anything?" Gilbert asked, ruby eyes staring into Matthew's blue-violet eyes.

"Oh, sure. I could use a bite." he said, smiling at the albino. Said albino grinned widely and leaned back into his own seat.

"Good, because we're going to get some real food into you no matter what." he said. Feliciano gave a squawk from the front seat, and Gilbert laughed, "You're food is great Feli, but I think Mattie's getting tired of pasta."

Matthew chuckled. He'd become accustomed to the daily household antics of the Beilschmidt's and Feliciano. It was almost comedic. Gilbert was the life of the house, causing a commotion everyday over something new each time. Feliciano was also quite lively, always cheerful and delighted each time someone asked him to make them food. Ludwig was the clean and order of the house, cleaning up after both his brother and his boyfriend. Matthew and Ludwig had actually begun to get along after Matthew had started getting better. Matthew was quite, neat and tidy, and kept his things clean. Ludwig appreciated it, and the two of them often collaborated for chores. Matthew enjoyed feeling useful, and Ludwig was grateful for the help.

Matthew followed everyone into the small diner. He sat down at a table with everyone and tried to ignore how people were looking at him. He was borrowing Gilbert's clothes, since his own had been deemed unwearable by Ludwig. He and Gilbert were about the same height, Matthew a tad taller, but Matthew was much skinnier, so the borrowed clothes hung off of him. As well as strangely dressed, Matthew was still very thin and sickly looking. He tried his best to ignore it and focussed on his menu, even though he couldn't read a word.

Eventually, he had Gilbert order for him; coffee and some type of German meat stew, "It sure is a nice day out." Matthew said.

"Yeah, it is nice. We should get you outside some more. You're so pale." Gilbert said with a grin.

Matthew elbowed him, "Like you have anything to talk about."

Gilbert cackled, "Hey now, I've got an excuse. I'm albino."

Matthew rolled his eyes, "Anyway, I don't tan very well. Besides, I don't really like showing off my bare skin to people." he said, one hand coming up to rub the cigarette burn scars on his chest.

Gilbert gave him an understanding smile, "Aw, don't worry Birdie, we can go to a private place." his smile turned suggestive, "It'll be just you and me, all alone, and no one around to see or hear." he purred, leaning in and stroking Matthew's cheek with his finger.

Matthew jumped back and glared at Gilbert, who sat back and cackled, "I'm only teasing you Birdie! Gosh, don't take things so seriously." he said, ruffling Matthew's blond curls.

Matthew rolled his eyes and pushed Gilbert away as they're food arrived.

"So Matthew, have you thought of what you are going to do now?" Ludwig asked, staring at Matthew over his plate.

Matthew blanked for a moment, "Um, I'm not sure. Working on myself I guess. I want to go home someday soon at least."

Ludwig nodded, "That's something at least." He said, but he didn't sound too confident in Matthew. Matthew ignored it and dug into his stew.

"Don't worry Birdie, we'll get you home. You still have some money left over, right?" Gilbert asked around a mouthful of food. Ludwig glared at Gilbert for his rudeness in public, but Gilbert didn't seem to notice.

Matthew shrugged, "I have some." he said. He'd spent most of the cash, but he still had some trinkets that he could pawn. It would be enough for a plane ticket home, and that's all he really needed.

Gilbert cackled, "Awesome. Are you gonna go back into painting?" he asked.

Matthew stopped. Was he going to go back to his painting? Truth be told, he hadn't thought about it much. He'd been on that path for so long, since childhood, that he felt it was only natural to go into it as a career. Now he wasn't so sure. He painted because he was good at it, but was it really what he wanted? Matthew stared down into his food, deep in thought.

"Birdie? You're zoning out on us again." Gilbert said, poking Matthew in the cheek. He jerked out of his thoughts and blinked.

"Oh, sorry. I was just . . . thinking." Matthew said, "I'm actually not sure if I want to go back into painting." he said.

"Well, this is a big turning point in your life, maybe it's time for you to rethink your life's path." Ludwig said, "I figured I'd go into history for a long time, but a few years ago I decided to go into auto-mechanics instead."

Matthew nodded, "I'm going to have to think about it." he said. What else was he good at that he could turn into a career? What else did he like? He was a bit of history nerd, at least when it came to Canadian history, that could be a career. He could also do a bit of writing, and knew his way around a good book. He also had a love of hockey, but he'd been too small and weak during his teen years to play competitively. He'd had his growth spurt after graduating high school, and by that time he had been well on his way to art school. Still, the idea of being on the ice, fans screaming for you to win, it appealed to Matthew. He'd have to look into it more.

The four of them finished their food, light conversation floating between them. As they were leaving, Gilbert's cellphone rang, obnoxiously loud, the sound of birds chirping ringing out throughout the diner. Gilbert ignored glares in his direction and picked up. Whoever was on the other side of the conversation must have been a friend, because Gilbert seemed happy to talk to them, and stayed on the line until they were almost home. He hung up as they pulled into their street.

"That was Lars van der Zijden." he announced happily.

"Das holländischen Mitbewohner habe auf dem College? _[That Dutch roommate you had in collage?]_" Ludwig asked.

"Ja." Gilbert said, "Ich datiert seiner Schwester zu. _[I dated his sister too.]_"

Ludwig nodded and went inside the house. Matthew's German had been improving, but he still looked at Gilbert for confirmation about what that conversation had been about.

"An old friend is coming over. Don't worry about it, he's a nice guy." Gilbert explained.

"Oi, du nie gesagt, daß er kam vorbei! _[Hey, you never said he was coming over!]_" Ludwig shouted from the doorway. Gilbert laughed and dragged Matthew up the steps. Matthew chuckled and rolled his eyes.

He wanted to go home, but he never wanted to leave.

**Author Commentary;** Not the best chapter, but it works.


	49. Closer

**Author Commentary;** I have only the vaguest of ideas of what I'm doing for this chapter. Bear with me.

**Title;** Closer

**Characters;** America, Russia

**Pairs;** beginnings of Rus-Ame

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** swearing

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

The next day, when Alfred went into work, people immediately noticed something different.

"Wow Alfred, you're looking chipper today. Something good happen?" Toris asked as Alfred sat down in his chair, a giant grin on his face.

Alfred beamed at him, "I had the most stupendously awesome day yesterday!" he said. Toris could tell that he was bursting at the seams to talk about it, so he let him go on, "First, I finally got a part in a movie, a lead part. This is awesome in itself, but something even more spectacular happened when I got home." he paused for effect, "Matthew sent a postcard! He's alive!"

Toris lit up with a smile, "That's great Alfred! Sveikiname! _[Congratulations!]_" he said, genuinely happy for Alfred, "How long has it been?"

"A year and a half." Alfred said, somewhat sadly, "It's hard to believe that it's been so long. My brother and I have always been so close."

"I can tell." Toris said. He looked like he was about to say something else, but he glanced over Alfred's shoulder and quickly retreated to his cubicle. Alfred turned around and glared.

"What the hell do you want, Ivan?" he hissed.

Ivan only stared down at him, grinning like an innocent child, "I was simply wondering what all of the commotion was about. You seem to be extremely happy today."

Alfred huffed and turned around, "It's none of your business." He said. A hand grabbed onto his shoulder and spun him around in his spinny chair. He was about to say something to the Russian brute, but was stopped by the look in those violet eyes.

"By coming over here and asking you, I am making it my business. I would very much like to know. Won't you tell me, Глупый мало американец? _[stupid little American?]_" Ivan said, still smiling, but now with an edge to it that made Alfred think of a wolf that had just spotted a lamb with a bad leg.

Alfred felt the hairs on his neck rise and sweat bead under his collar. He compose himself and shoved the larger man away, "Fuck off, like I would tell you." he snarled.

For a moment, it looked like Ivan would hit Alfred, but he just continued smiling and returned to his cubicle. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief and turned his chair around. After a moment, Toris peeked over the cubicle wall.

"Sorry, I don't mean to leave you when he comes around, but he's just so frightening. I don't know how you can stand up to him." Toris said, looking a little sheepish for being cowardly.

Alfred chuckled, "No worries, most people would be scared shitless if a guy that big and intimidating started harassing them."

"But you aren't afraid. How come?" Toris asked.

Alfred shrugged, "Maybe the 'flight' part of my 'fight or flight' reflex is broken." he said with a little laugh.

Toris chuckled, but still stared at Alfred in a sort of wonder.

The day wore on, time trudging by, and it finally came to an end. Alfred groaned and rolled his neck, trying to get the kinks out. He hopped into his car and decided that he needed to have a drink to celebrate both getting an acting job and his brother's sudden return to the living.

Alfred turned into one of his favourite nearby bars. It was a classy little place, something his Dad would have liked, and it was usually quiet. He was feeling like celebrating on his own, without people. This was a personal time.

He parked his car and locked all the doors and rolled up the windows. He went inside and sat down at the counter on a stool, waiting for the bartender to serve him.

Alfred had just gotten his beer when he heard a familiar voice beside him.

"Водка пожалуйста. _[Vodka please.]_"

Alfred whipped his head around so hard he nearly toppled himself off his stool. Sure enough, the huge Russki was situating himself on the stool next to him. The massive man turned and smiled at him.

"Здравствуйте, меня глупым и ненавистные друг! _[Hello my stupid and hateful friend!]_ What brings you to one of my favourite places to find a drink?" Ivan said cheerfully.

"What the fuck man?" Alfred shouted, "You fucking stalker! I'll- mphf!"

Ivan covered Alfred's mouth with a large hand, "Quiet down дурак _[idiot]_, there is no need for a fuss. This is a calm, quiet place, Дa? Causing a scene will get you kicked out before you even have a chance enjoy your, ah, 'drink'." he said with a giggle, eyeing the Budweiser on the counter, "As for how we came to be here at the same time, I am here every night for a drink of vodka in a quiet setting. You may ask the bartender if you like, but he will say the same thing. You coming here at the same time was mere coincidence. There is nothing sinister going on here, I assure you." Ivan said. Seeing that Alfred had calmed, he moved his hand away.

Alfred jerked back and wiped his mouth, "Dick." he hissed. He picked up his beer and took a long drink.

Ivan giggled. He took his glass of vodka and drank a good quarter of it (was he drinking it straight?), "So what brings you to this place? Happiness? Sadness?"

Alfred glared at the man, wondering why he hadn't just gulped back his beer and gone somewhere else. He decided that it was too much effort and took another drink, "Happiness."

Ivan smiled, "How wonderful! Кажется, что даже свиньей найти то радоваться. _[It seems that even pigs can find something to be happy about.]_" he said. He raised his glass, "A toast?"

Alfred glared, but raised his beer and clinked it with the Russian's glass, "Cheers." he said half heartedly.

"Ваше здоровье! _[Cheers! (lit. Your health!)]_" Ivan said, taking another gulp of his vodka. He set the glass down without even a shudder as the hard alcohol hit his system.

Alfred glanced over at him, "Are you drinking that straight?" he asked.

"Дa." Ivan said, "It is best that way."

Alfred blinked, "You are one tough son-of-a-gun." he said.

Ivan looked over at him, seemingly surprised, "Is that a compliment?" he asked, seeming genuinely shocked.

Alfred felt himself flushing. He averted his eyes, "Depends on how you look at it." he mumbled.

"That isn't a 'no'." Ivan said with a grin, leaning into Alfred's personal space.

Alfred leaned away, "Fine, it was a compliment, happy?"

Ivan's eyes lit up and he backed away, a smile on his face, "Stupendously so!"

Alfred rolled his eyes. He continued to drink his beer, keeping one eye on the man sitting next to him. He ordered a second beer, then another, and before he knew it, he was leaning on Ivan, telling him about his darling little brother.

"An' he looks jus' like me! I swear! We could be twins!" Alfred insisted, waving his beer around.

Ivan giggled, one arm wrapped around Alfred's shoulders, "You sound as though you love your brother very very much." he said.

"Course I do. If I didn't, I wouldn'ta protected 'im all this time." Alfred said, taking a long drink.

Ivan raised an eyebrow an looked down at him, "Protected? But he is your brother, surely he can manage himself?"

Alfred shook his head, "Thas not what it's about. 'e's m'brother. 's not b'cause I don think 'e can take care of 'imself, 's 'cause I love 'im. You protect the things you love, even if they don't need it."

Ivan stared down at Alfred, an unreadable expression on his face. He didn't have a chance to reply as Alfred went on.

"An' yaknow, I've been protectin' Mattie since we was really really small. Mostly from our Mother and Father." he took another drink, "They used to do terrible terrible things. Mother would get drunk and mad and she would hit us until it all went black. Father would get drunk and mad and he would rape us." Ivan jerked a little startled by Alfred's confession, "We nev'r let it bug us too much fer a while. We got to live with Dad an' Papa. It was th' first time me an' Mattie ever felt loved, yaknow?" Alfred said, mood much more subdued now, "'course, we went through other shit as well. Somehow our mother got us back and that all went to shit real fast." Alfred stared into his drink for a long moment and chugged it down, "She almos' killed Mattie, then she killed 'erself, right in fron' of me." he said, "She said to me 'You killed me.' Fuck, what a thing to say to your kid. Really." Alfred said, going for his drink again, but finding it empty, "Yo! Barkeep! Another one!"

The disgruntled bartender looked over at them, "I think you've had enough for the night." he said.

"Psh, rude." Alfred said. He teetered as his support (Ivan) left him. He glanced lazily over as the man was standing and pulling his coat on.

"Come Alfred, I will take you home." Ivan said, reaching out a hand for Alfred to take.

Alfred stared at the hand for a moment before taking it, "Heh, tha's the first time I think you've said my actual name."

Ivan chuckled, "Surely it is not. I must have said it before now." he said, tugging Alfred's arm over his shoulder and hoisting him up.

Alfred thought for a moment as Ivan dragged him out of the bar and into the cold night, "I can't remember."

"That is because you are very drunk." Ivan said. They passed Alfred's car.

"Shit bro, that's my ride." Alfred said, glancing back at his car.

Ivan chuckled, "I just told you, you are very drunk. We will take my bike and I will take you home." he said, tugging Alfred over to a black IMZ-Ural with a sidecar. Ivan put the drunk man into the sidecar and handed him an extra helmet.

"You have a motorbike?" Alfred asked as he tried to fit the helmet over his head without squashing his glasses into his eyeballs.

Ivan reached over and fixed the helmet, "Yes." he said.

Alfred chuckled, "That's cool." He said, smiling up at Ivan, "You know, I think the reason I'm not scared of you, of anything, is because I've already lived in hell."

Ivan blinked down at Alfred, "What an odd thing to say." he said, "Вы действительно странный человек. Вы как-то раздражало меня, оскорблял меня, но в то же время у меня очаровал. Это как если бы меня тянет к вам. _[You truly are a strange man. You somehow have irritated me, insulted me, yet at the same time have fascinated me. It's as though I am drawn to you.]_"

"Dude, what the fuck are you saying?"

Ivan laughed and started the bike, "Не обращайте на меня внимания, я просто говорил сам с собой. _[Do not mind me, I'm just speaking to myself.]_"

"Seriously dude, knock it off."

**Author Commentary;** Surprisingly, I thought this chapter went spectacularly well.


	50. Hockey

**Author Commentary;** I'm not gonna lie guys, I'm starting to lose interest in this. I love it and all, but I keep wanting to move on. Don't worry, I won't leave this unfinished, I love you guys too much.

**Title;** Hockey

**Characters;** Canada, Prussia, Netherlands, Belgium, Germany,

**Pairs;** GerIta

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** Hockey violence, swearing

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Matthew had thought himself as a tall person. At six foot two, he stood slightly taller than most of the people around him, but he was by no means the tallest man in the room. Ludwig was around his height, and Gilbert was an inch shorter. Feliciano was much shorter than any of them. Matthew wasn't by any means the tallest person around, but he almost never felt short next to anyone.

Almost.

Standing next to Lars van der Zijden, Matthew felt a little dwarfed. It was understandable, the man was an astounding six foot nine. Most people would feel a little small next to the man. Matthew also felt a little intimidated by the Dutchman's intense gaze and stand-offish attitude, though Gilbert insisted that he was a really fun guy if you got to know him. Matthew decided to take his word for it and gave the man a timid smile, but received only the smallest of nods in return.

"Lars! Wie bist du gewesen, du hässlich Bastard? _[Lars! How have you been, you ugly bastard?]_" Gilbert cheered as they greeted Lars at the train station.

"Ik heb prima. U hebt gekregen lelijker sinds ik je zag. _[I've been fine. You've gotten uglier since I saw you last.]_" Lars replied, voice a deep baritone.

Gilbert laughed, "Lars, this is Matthew Williams, the one I told you about." he said, gesturing to Matthew, who was standing close by.

"Um, hi." Matthew said, giving a nervous wave. Lars gave him a nod and picked up his bags. Matthew sighed. This was going splendidly.

"Hey! Hoe zit mij? _[Hey! What about me?]_" a feminine voice called out. A young girl stepped out from behind Lars, face drawn up into a pout. She was quite pretty, her blonde hair cut short to accent her round face.

Gilbert laughed, "Sorry Bella, I didn't see you around this fatass." he said. Lars gave a grunt, but didn't give any other indication that he was offended, or had even heard, Gilbert's comment.

Bella giggled, "It's fine." she said. She smiled brightly at Matthew, who smiled back, "Hi there, I'm Bella van der Zijden, Lars's little sister. It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine." Matthew said politely. Bella giggled. Matthew moved to take her bags and she flushed.

"What a gentleman." she said. She glared at Lars and punched him in the stomach, "Waarom jij niet neem mijn tassen mij? Schok. _[Why don't you take my bags for me? Jerk.]_"

"Omdat je één klein bitch. _[Because you're a little bitch.]_" Lars answered, earning him another punch to the stomach.

Gilbert cackled, "C'mon guys, you can kill each other later, let's head home." he said, herding them towards the car.

They put the bags into the trunk of the car and drove off, Bella chatting away the entire time. Matthew listened politely, trying to follow her words around her accent, though it was difficult. They reached the Beilschmidt home after navigating through the busy streets of Berlin. When they came inside, Feliciano was already in the kitchen, cooking a big dinner for everyone, Ludwig supervising. They greeted them, Bella swooning over how adorable Feliciano was, then they took the bags up to the guest rooms.

"Sorry Birdie, you're getting evicted. It's okay, you can stay in my room." Gilbert said, grinning. Matthew just nodded, though he surprisingly wasn't nervous at all. He and Gilbert had told each other their darkest secrets, there was an unspoken understanding between them.

Everything was packed away just as Feliciano called up the stairs for dinner. They all went down to eat, making light conversation and warding off Feliciano's attempts to load more food onto their plates. They put away their dishes and travelled to the back yard.

"Hey, who's up for a little hockey?" Gilbert suggested, gesturing in the direction of the shed.

"Feel like getting your ass kicked?" Lars asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gilbert cackled, "I'll go grab the stuff. Matt, you want to play?" he asked.

"Sure. I'll go in net I guess." Matthew said. Net was an unpopular choice for casual players, who preferred to run around after the puck.

"Great, you're awesome Matt." Gilbert said, then ran off for the equipment, leaving Matthew standing next to the two Dutchmen.

Matthew shuffled his feet and looked everywhere but at the two. He was about to go help Gilbert with the equipment when Bella spoke up.

"So where are you from?" she asked, smiling at him.

Matthew smiled back, "Canada."

"Oh really?" she said, perking up a little, and Matthew remembered the old woman in the whorehouse he'd gone to in Amsterdam.

Matthew shook the memory away, "Yes, I was raised there for most of my life."

"Most of?" Bella inquired.

"I was born in the U.S." Matthew explained, "But I consider myself to be Canadian."

"I see. That's cool." Bella said, giving him a bright smile. Matthew smiled back and began to feel a little better.

Gilbert came back with half of the equipment, "Alright guys, here's most of it. I'm going to go set up the net." he said, than ran off again.

Matthew grabbed the goalie equipment and began to strap himself into it. He picked up the goalie stick and waddled over to the net that Gilbert had set up at one end of the yard.

"You okay in there Birdie?" Gilbert asked, grabbing Matthew's face mask and giving it a little shake.

Matthew swatted Gilbert's hands away and gave him a scowl, "I'm fine." He said.

Gilbert grinned, "Awesome. Hey guys! Laten we enkele hockey spelen! _[Let's play some hockey!]_" he shouted the last part, holding his stick in the air. Matthew rolled his eyes and shook his head. He took his place in net and set himself up in position.

After a few minutes of quarrelling between the others, the game was on. Gilbert and Ludwig on one team, and Lars and Bella on the other team. Feliciano was cheering for everyone from the sidelines, as well as acting at referee. He blew his shiny silver whistle and dropped the orange ball to the ground.

In a flash, the two team chased the ball around. Gilbert and Ludwig had the advantage, with Bella being smaller and slower than the men, and with Ludwig being large and intimidating, it was hard to go up against him. However, Matthew could quickly see that he had been wrong. Lars guarded against Ludwig, which left Bella t the puck. For all his faults, Gilbert was chivalrous, and wouldn't tackle her, resorting to other methods to take the puck from her. Matthew watched them closely. Bella took a shot, and Matthew blocked it easily. The game resumed, Matthew watching the puck like a hawk. More shots, none of them going in. It was dark by the time they stopped, both teams still at zero points.

"Shit Birdie, you got some mad skills." Gilbert said, panting.

Ludwig whipped the sweat from his forehead, "I don't think we've ever gone through a game without anyone scoring a single point."

"Wow Matthew! You're really really good!" Feliciano said, darting over to take Matthew's hands, "You're almost a pro!"

Matthew flushed, "I don't think I'm that good." He said, removing the face mask.

"You give yourself too little credit." Lars said, the first time he'd spoken to Matthew, "I've played for a collage team for years, there was never a goalie I couldn't score on."

Matthew flushed darker. He remembered watching the NHL games as a little boy, wondering what it was like to get out on the ice and have so many people cheer for you. He was a strong skater, and he could handle a puck decently, but he'd never thought he'd actually have a chance. He entertained the idea in his head. He wasn't too old to still try out, and it wasn't like he was thinking of making it big (it would be nice though). He wondered if he would actually get on.

Later that evening, as Matthew was setting up a makeshift bed on the floor of Gilbert's room, Gilbert rolled over on his bed and grinned at Matthew, "So, you think you're up for it?"

"Up for what?" Matthew asked, looking over with a raised eyebrow.

"For professional hockey." Gilbert said, grinning wider.

Matthew stopped for a moment, "I don't know." he said after a moment.

Gilbert let out an exaggerated groan, "But Birdie! You'd make an awesome goalie. You saw how sweet you did today, you could totally try out for the DEL." he said.

Matthew rolled his eyes, "If I did try out, it'd be for the NHL, not the DEL, and I don't think I'm quite that good."

"Psh, lame. You'd be awesome." Gilbert insisted.

Matthew chuckled, "We'll see." he said.

**Author Commentary;** Just a quick announcement; Matthew's part of the story is going a hiatus for a while. I'm just going to focus on Alfred's story for a while. Don't worry, Mattie will be back in due time, but right now it's Al's turn in the spotlight.


	51. Pills

**Author Commentary;** So for the next few chapters, it's going to be mostly Al's story, with bits of Ivan's sprinkled in and maybe a look at how Arthur and Francis are doing. Mattie's fine, he's just off doing his own thing. He'll be back. Right now the most exciting part of the story is with Alfred.

**Title;** Pills

**Characters;** America, Russia, Ukraine, Belarus

**Pairs;** beginnings of RussAme, some Belarus-Russia

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** some swearing, mental illness

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

Alfred groaned and rolled over, pushing his face into the pillow to keep the light from reaching his eyes. His head throbbed and his body ached. How much had he drank last night? He groaned and his stomach did some flips. His entire body seemed to be hypersensitive with his hangover. Every sound was like a knife to his skull. He could feel the thick duvet weighing heavily on his body. The light that penetrated through the pillow and into his eyeballs sent his head throbbing. He hissed again and nuzzled into the pillow some more, breathing in the scent of fabric softener and the barest hint of cigarette smoke. How had he gotten home last night?

Alfred startled himself into awareness with that thought. No, he wasn't home at all. He didn't have a heavy duvet on his bed, and he'd never smoked a day in his life. As these things came back to him, Alfred began to actually hear what was going on around him. Someone was using the shower to his left, and he could here female voices chatting through a wall or two, as well as the sizzle and pop of bacon on a frying pan. No, this was definitely not his house.

So where the fuck was he?

Alfred lifted his head and blinked blearily at his surroundings. He reached out to his right, but felt nothing but more bed. He reached to the other side and found the bedside table, his glasses perched on it. He shoved them on and took a proper look around.

The room he was in was fairly large, with a big window. Through the window he could see a view of other buildings across the street below. The room itself was sparsely decorated, with just the large bed, a big oak wardrobe in the corner, and a similarly styled oak desk in another corner. The bed was obviously from the same furniture set as the wardrobe and desk, and as Alfred sat up, he realized that it had a feather mattress. The duvet was also fairly pricey looking, and was stuffed with feathers as well. Geez, the were in the middle of L.A., who needed a feather duvet in this kind of heat?

His question was answered when the door to his left opened up and a man as massive as the bed walked into the room. It took Alfred a moment to realize that the man was Ivan.

"You're awake." Ivan said, drying his hair with a faded pink towel, "The shower is free at the moment, but you better grab it quickly before Katyusha or Natalia take it."

Alfred could only stare in disbelief. What? What was going on? Why was he in a strange room with his most hated enemy, who was casually talking about showers like this kind of thing was normal? It actually took him a full fifteen seconds to realize he was staring at a shirtless and dripping wet Ivan.

And what a sight it was. He had been right about Ivan being massive; he was _huge_. Alfred could see the muscles moving and flexing beneath the skin, though they weren't as defined as they could be. Ivan wasn't fat at all, but he was broad and thick, and the muscles in his chest, shoulders, and arms seemed to emphasize it. Alfred realized with a start that the the ever-present scarf was also missing, and he zeroed in on the never-before-seen neck.

He was shocked by the scars.

They weren't the little criss-cross scars that one accumulated over time, or the large scars that you got in accidents. No, the scars on Ivan's neck were deliberate, all flowing together to make a collar around Ivan's thick neck. Some were thin, but some were thick and angry. One particular scar across the back of his neck was huge and thick, nearly going all the way around, and looked as though it had been gone over many many times. After seeing the scars of Ivan's neck, it was impossible not to see the other scars on his body. They were everywhere on Ivan's body. Some were nothing but fine white lines, but others were discoloured, angry streaks across his body. His shoulder looked like it had been burned badly at one point, and there was an odd, circular scar over top of where Ivan's heart would be. Alfred wondered about it for a moment before he realized that he was staring.

"Uhh," Alfred began coherently, "Where am I?" he asked.

"My apartment." Ivan said, crossing the room to open the wardrobe and pull out a simple black T-shirt, "Well, mine and my sisters."

"Okay . . . why am I here?" Alfred asked, still wondering if he was dreaming.

Ivan pulled the shirt over his head. He reached over and picked up his scarf next. He wrapped it around his neck, hiding the grotesque scars from view, "You were drunk last night, and since I did not feel like having your grisly death on my conscious, I brought you home. Your car is still at the bar." he explained.

Alfred nodded, though he was still trying to wrap his head around everything. He glanced around again, this time realizing that the other side of the bed he was in looked well slept in, "Dude, we shared a bed?" he cried.

"Well, you would complained if I put you on the floor, and there was no room elsewhere to put you." Ivan said.

"So you just crawled into bed with me?" Alfred asked incredulously.

"Da."

" . . . Does personal space even occur to you?"

"Nyet."

Alfred resisted the urge to leap over the bed and attempt to strangle the man with his own scarf.

Alfred rubbed his still throbbing head. He decided it probably wasn't worth the effort and got out of bed, heading for the bathroom. He quickly jumped into the shower, shedding his clothes as he went, and turned on the water. He scrubbed himself down and washed his hair with some shampoo he found. He shut the water off and hopped out, searching for a towel. He looked around. The bathroom had two doors, one that led to Ivan's room and another that probably led to the hallway. There was a shower with a bath and a sliding glass door instead of a curtain, a cabinet with towels and other bathroom things, a standard toilet, and a sink with a fair sized counter top and a well lit mirror. It was nicer than what he had at his own apartment, and Alfred wondered how Ivan could afford a place like this, then remembered the cafe his sister ran. Faced with nothing else to do in the bathroom, Alfred decided to do the natural thing one did when in a strange place.

Snoop.

Wearing a maniacal grin and a towel, Alfred began opening drawers and cupboards, shifting through junk and inspecting things of interest. Most were normal things you could find in any shared bathroom, though Alfred did recoil at a drawer filled with tampons and pads (he'd grown up in a house filled only with men, so you really couldn't blame him).

Alfred quickly shut that drawer and moved onto the next one. Inside this one were several plastic pill containers. He picked one up and read the name; _Ivan Braginski_. So Ivan was medicated? It wouldn't surprise Alfred in the least. He glanced at the prescription. He was a little startled to recognize the name on the bottle as an antidepressant he himself had been on when he'd been recovering from his eating disorder.

He picked up another one. Another antidepressant, this one a little stronger. Alfred shifted through the bottles, glancing at the labels. There were a few that Alfred recognized, but most Alfred had no recollection of ever crossing. Altogether there were seventeen bottles, fifteen that were daily, and two that were to be taken twice a day. Alfred wondered what they were all for.

"Старший брат, ты сделал там? Вы берете лекарства? _[Elder brother, are you done in there? Are you taking your medication?]_" a feminine voice called, accompanied by small knuckles rapping on the door.

Alfred jerked and shoved the yellow and orange bottles back into their drawer, "J-just a moment!" he called.

The voice let out a hiss and some mutterings in another language as the owner moved away from the door. He could hear another female voice and Ivan's own oddly soft murmurs joining into a conversation. Alfred threw on the clothes he wore yesterday and thanked whatever deity that might be out there that he didn't have to work today and his clothes didn't smell too bad.

Exiting the bathroom and finding himself in the hallway, Alfred walked toward where the voices were. He found himself in a spacious kitchen/dining room. Ivan, Katyusha, and Ivan's younger sister (Natalya? Natasha?) were all sitting around the table, chatting in Russian. They all looked up at Alfred as he stepped into the kitchen, and the only non-Russian in the room felt an icy chill as they stared; he waved awkwardly.

"Katyusha, Natalya, this is my co-worker, Alfred Kirkland-Bonnefoy. He could not drive home last night, so I gave him a place to stay for the night." Ivan said, coming to Alfred's rescue.

Katyusha smiled at him, "Yes, I remember you. I haven't seen you at the café in a while." she said, standing up and shaking his hand.

Alfred smiled down at her, "Yeah, things have been getting busy. Sorry about that. I'll make sure to come down and have some coffee sometime." he said.

"Следует тольком оставила егок замерзнуть в сточной канаве. _[You should have just left him to freeze to death in the gutter.]_" Natalya hissed, and though Alfred didn't understand the words, he could tell from the tone that she didn't like him much.

"Наталья, не грубим. _[Natalya, don't be rude.]_" Ivan admonished her. She reverted her gaze to her plate of scrambled eggs.

After a mostly pleasant breakfast of eggs and toast, ruined only by the occasional glare from Natalya and the fact that Alfred was in _Ivan's_ home of all places, Alfred surrendered himself to Ivan driving him back to the bar to get his car.

"This was a fun experience. I hope we can meet at the bar again sometime." Ivan said as Alfred got out of the sidecar.

"Yeah right, the next time I see you at the bar, I'm throwing my stool at you." Alfred said, stumbling out of the cramped sidecar.

"Why must you be so unkind Alfred? Perhaps I only want to be closer friends?" Ivan said, a mock pout tone edging into his voice.

Alfred gave him a look, "What's with you all of a sudden? Why are you so keen on being all chummy with me?"

Ivan grinned, and Alfred could help but shiver at how (attractive, arousing) creepy it was, "Maybe I decided to change my mind?" he said. He started up his bike, "I will see you, мой друг _[my friend]_."

Alfred watched the man drive off into the city. He didn't realize he'd been staring until his palm began to bleed from how hard he was gripping his car keys in his hand.

**Author Commentary;** Bluh.


	52. Getting Along

**Author Commentary;** Not really sure what I'm doing, so this is mostly just a 'winging it' kind of chapter.

**Note;** Now with a shiny new title!

**Title;** Getting Along

**Characters;** America, Russia

**Pairs;** Beginnings of RusAme

**Rating;** T

**Warnings;** some yaoi

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Hetalia.

After the first time, Alfred found himself at the bar more and more, sitting next to Ivan and having a drink. Perhaps it was the cozy atmosphere of the bar, or the alcohol floating in his bloodstream, but Alfred found Ivan easier to talk to at the bar. Ivan in turn seemed to enjoy Alfred's company more when they sat together. They even began to become friendly with each other.

"So Alfred, do you enjoy sports?" Ivan asked, turning his recently emptied glass over in his hands.

Alfred sipped his beer, "I suppose. I played football, American football, in high school, but as I got older, I got more and more into the art crowd." Alfred winced at the memory of his 'hipster' years, "And what about you big guy? You play any sports?"

"Hockey." Ivan answered simply, "It's quite popular in Russia. I was very good."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, "Oh really? How come you didn't get into it then? I'm sure they could have used a big guy like you. You'd be a good offence."

Ivan's eyes darkened a little, "It was . . . not in the future my family picked out for me." he said. He ordered another glass of vodka, "Did you play hockey at all? You seem to know about it."

Alfred chuckled, "Yeah, I played a little in the winter time, mostly casually. My brother is the one who loves hockey. He was always a small little guy though, so he had trouble playing with the other guys his age."

Ivan leaned in a little, interested, "Oh? I know you have a brother, but I never hear you speak of him. Why is that?" he asked.

It was Alfred's turn to glance away with dark eyes, "He . . . disappeared over a year ago. Just packed up and left one day, not a word to anyone. We've barely heard from him since." he said, sucking back some more beer, "We actually started getting postcards from him a little while ago. From Germany no less. Dad and Papa nearly went bankrupt five times trying to look for him. Papa had almost given up by the time they started coming, but I don't think Dad ever would have given up on him until he died." Alfred said, getting a far off look in his eyes as he thought about past few years spent scraping the bottom of the barrel so he could contribute to PI's, trackers, or whoever his father's were paying to search for their little boy.

Ivan watched Alfred for a moment, seeming to pick his words carefully, "I am very sorry for your hardship." he said after a moment.

Alfred shrugged, but looked at Ivan and said, "Thank you."

They sat there in silence for a moment before Ivan decided to change the subject, "Dad and Papa? Pardon me, but I believe the English words for мамаand отц are Mother and Father, or 'Mom' and 'Dad'. You used two words to describe a Father."

Alfred sighed and fished out his wallet, "That's because I have two father's. My brother and I are adopted." he said, flipping open his wallet and showing Ivan a picture of his family from a few years ago, "My father's are a same sex couple."

Ivan squinted at the blurry, faded picture. He seemed to comprehend what Alfred was telling him, "You were raised by a homosexual couple." he said, handing the picture back to Alfred.

"Yeah." Alfred said, looking at the photo fondly. In it, he was in the front with his arm around Matthew's shoulders, grinning widely at the camera, while Matthew smiled politely. Francis and Arthur were behind the boys, Francis with his arm around Arthur's waist, hand settled on his hip, smiling lovingly down at his shorter husband. Arthur was blushing, with the little pout/frown on his face, but you could see, even thought the picture was blurry and faded, the love and affection Arthur had for the Frenchman. Alfred smiled and slipped the photo back into his wallet.

"I thought homosexual couples weren't allowed to get married or adopt in the United States." Ivan said after Alfred had put his wallet away.

"They aren't in most States." Alfred said. Before Ivan could ask which State Alfred had lived in, he answered, "We lived in Canada."

Ivan blinked, "Oh, I did not know that." he said, thinking about the times he'd called Alfred an American.

Alfred chuckled, "If it makes you feel any better, I was born in the US." he said, following Ivan's train of thought.

Ivan scowled, but Alfred could see the flush on his cheeks, "Не будь так полны себя, вы станете слишком толстый, чтобы вписаться в свои штаны. _[Don't be so full of yourself, you will become too fat to fit into your pants.]_"

Alfred glared, "I hate it when you do that. I know you're insulting me, but I can't make a good come back because I have no idea what you're actually saying."

Ivan chuckled, "Perhaps you should learn Russian, then you will be able to make a 'come back' at me."

Alfred rolled his eyes, "I barely speak French, and my Papa _is_ French, so that probably won't happen."

Ivan laughed and tossed back his glass. He stood up and pulled on his coat, "Well, I must go before I become too inebriated to drive. As always, it was a pleasure talking to you Alfred/ I will see you at work tomorrow."

"Not for long." Alfred said with a little grin, "If all goes well that is."

Ivan raised and inquisitive brow, "Oh? And why is that?"

Alfred slurped the rest of his beer, "I'm getting into my acting a little more. I don't think it'll be long before I'm doing it full time." he said, leaning back and grinning at the tall Russian, "The directors and producers have been talking about me, and word has been getting out that I'm a choice cut of meat." he said with a wink.

Either it was the dim lighting or the alcohol in Ivan's system, but for a moment he looking like he was blushing, "I see. I hope we will still manage to see each other even if that does come to pass."

Alfred chuckled and gave a dismissive wave of his hand, "We still have this bar. And I know where you live, so yeah, we can still hang out."

Ivan gave a big smile, a genuine smile, not like his teasing grin or his creepy 'I will murder you in your sleep and eat your face' smile, but a genuine, happy smile, showing pearly white teeth. Alfred felt his heart flutter for some reason.

"I will like that." Ivan said. He zipped up his coat and patted Alfred's shoulder, "до свидания Alfred. _[Good bye]_"

Alfred listened to Ivan's heavy steps as he walked to the door, then the creak and bang of the door as he left the bar. Alfred scooped up his beer and went to take a drink, but found it completely empty.

**Author Commentary;** Well, this pretty much wrote itself. If only all my writing was as easy as this.


End file.
